


Promises

by LarissaFae



Series: Factions [3]
Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarissaFae/pseuds/LarissaFae
Summary: A noblewoman finds herself pregnant and unwed, and Warden Janeva steps up to make things right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been updated to reflect the fact that only Sun-Priests are magistrates/lawyers as of 8/4/18, and more updates to reflect that are coming.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first chapter, wherein Zia is precious and Daradi is in control of everyone and everything up to and especially including Avad.
> 
>  
> 
> _Updated 2/3 to reflect that Zia has vitiligo._

“... yes … yes …” Iasia held tightly to Thenoran, pressing the pads of her fingers into his shoulders, staring up at the ceiling and letting out short, soft moans as he rocked into her. The urge to dig her nails in was almost overwhelming, but he hated it when she left marks and so she resisted it. His face was buried in the crook of her neck and one day - one day soon - they would be able to look at each other as they made love, wouldn’t have to be careful to not smudge her makeup or mess up her hair. They would go to parties together and go home together, would author treatises together and represent the wrongfully-accused together in court. People would still stare at the white splotches on her skin, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to her face. She would give him many sons, and maybe have a daughter for herself - she wouldn’t have to worry about a pregnancy after every time they lay together, because they would be properly married, soon.

She bit back a gasp as the constant rubbing finally produced a sharp slice of pleasure between her legs, tightening them around Thenoran’s waist. If she clenched her pelvic muscles hard enough, rhythmically enough, she could sometimes finish before he did, which was always the end of their lovemaking. She wrapped her arms more tightly around his back and breathed as evenly as possible - that also helped, sometimes. She was just on the edge, could feel her pleasure start to swell, had opened her mouth for a silent gasp, when Thenoran gave a guttural groan and thrust hard into her once, twice, three times. He stilled after that but for one final full-body shudder, which left Zia aching for release and trying to raise her hips up, whispering pleas for him to keep going, she was so close to finishing, just a little more ---

He shook his head in irritation and pushed himself off of her, brushing her away when she reached for him. “Quiet, girl. Do you want your parents to hear you?” Zia pressed her forehead against his bicep and whispered an apology as she slid her hand between her thighs to finish herself off, but Thenoran sat up and reached for a damp rag to wipe down with. “Come on, we don’t want them to wonder why the lesson is taking so long.”

She bit her lip and watched the way his muscles moved as he stood and pulled his priest’s robes back on. He had a point - he always had a point - but ... “My love, please, just this once?”

Thenoran took a breath and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling as he held his ceremonial headdress in his hands. For a moment Zia thought he might snap at her and started to draw in on herself, but instead he turned with a calm smile and kissed her forehead. “When we’re married, my love, we will have all the time to concentrate on you. For now, you must be patient.” He handed her the rag to wipe herself off with. “Come now, hurry.”

Zia held it between her legs and shuddered at the feeling of his seed dripping out of her. She would wash it herself, later. In the meantime, she hid it under her mattress and pulled her dress back down as Thenoran gathered his books and parchments. Her father indulged her desire to study the law, but not so much as to pay Thenoran to tutor her on a regular basis - once every two weeks, he felt, was enough to satisfy her thirst for knowledge, and he trusted Thenoran with her chastity.

Well, it _wasn’t_ enough to satisfy her thirst for knowledge, and her chastity was long gone, Thenoran’s from almost the very start. Zia leaned down to peer into the polished copper circle on her vanity, check the makeup on her eyes and the darker tint covering her splotches, and pat her hair into place before pulling her headdress back on, the machine parts shaped into stylized white wings on either side of her head. He hadn’t been able to resist her maturity, or beauty, or intelligence, he’d said - he said she was beautiful in spite of the odd white splotches all over her body, assured her that despite whatever sins she’d committed to be cursed with them, he would petition the Sun-God for forgiveness for her. She had so much promise, and soon he would ask her father for her hand. She simply had to be patient. Just … just a little more patient. Thenoran was a Sun-Priest, and as such a man of honor, and would stand by his promise to marry her. She was an impatient girl by nature, like he always told her. She had so much to learn before she would be a proper wife to him, the wife that he deserved. She needed, as he reminded her often, to be patient.

She dabbed more lip and skin color on and smoothed out her frown before straightening and following him out the door. Frowning caused wrinkles. Wrinkles made one look old. She was twenty-six and unmarried - she couldn’t afford to look old, even with Thenoran’s promise to marry her. No man wanted a wife who looked old.

She put on a pleasant half-smile as her father and Thenoran said their goodbyes at the door. One day it would be her parents leaving after a lovely evening together. She kept her gaze lowered so as not to betray her feelings, and then perked up a bit.

“Father, it’s still light out - may I go visit Daradi, please? I’ll take a servant. She’ll probably be at the bakery, so I can bring some bread home, too.”

Her father - a short, broad-chested man who was often mistaken for an Oseram even in the clothing of a Carja noble - pursed his lips as he turned and looked her up and down. Zia swallowed and drew her shoulders in a little as she picked at her nails. “Daradi is very well-guarded, Father. She knows Captain Erend personally.”

“Daradi is hardly the sort of lady that you should be associating with,” her mother spoke up. _“Especially_ if she’s cavorting with Oseram these days.”

“She isn’t _cavorting,_ Mother,” Zia huffed. “Daradi is as much a lady as you or I.” That got a return huff of disbelief. She turned back to her father. “What I _meant,_ Father, was that no one will accost me if I’m with Daradi. And I haven’t seen her in ever so long. Please, may I go? I’ll have a Vanguardsman walk me home, if need be. Or a city guard. The captain of the city guard himself would do it, if Daradi asked.”

Her father finally smiled a little. “Fine. If it will keep you from climbing out your window, take a servant and go. But be home by dark.”

Zia squeaked with excitement and hugged him. “Oh, thank you!” It only gave her two or so hours, but it was more than she’d expected. She kissed his cheek and laughed as it left a dark purple mark, then turned and skipped out the front door before he could change his mind.

A servant boy followed close on her heels, and there was a bounce in her step as she breathed in the city air and tilted her face up to the warmth of the sun. There were colorful streamers and glass lanterns strung between the buildings around her, and merchants were already selling decorations for the Liberation Day celebration, though it was two months away. She stopped to buy a small fruit tart and had just finished it - eating as she walked like a commoner would, but with no parents to admonish her behavior - when they got to the bakery, the smell of baking maize bread drifting out to her along with the chatter of people inside.

She pushed the door open and stood on her toes to try to see where her friend was. A line of customers nearly reached the door, including a _lot_ of Vanguardsmen, and Daradi’s voice drifted to her from somewhere toward the back of the shop. Zia squeezed by a few servants until she could hear her friend clearly. “Daradi!”

“This just won’t do, my lord,” Daradi was saying as she backed out of the swinging doors that led to the bakery proper. A noble walked with her, someone Zia didn’t recognize, and judging by the tension in her polite smile, Daradi was clearly unhappy.

“This maize is useless. I can’t sell this ---” She dipped her finger into a bag, licking it and making a face. “Is this _sawdust?”_

“Of course it isn't, my lady.” The man sounded absolutely offended, and took the bag back.

“Well, go see Tremon and he will show you the quality of maize that I need. This just isn’t going to get an official stamp as it is.”

She brushed maize flour off of her hands and looked around, and then her face broke into a grin. “Zia! It’s been too long. How have you been?” A small, vaguely-familiar black-skinned boy tugged at her skirt and she leaned over. “Oh, ‘Tamen, that’s a lovely figure. Zia, come, sit down.”

Zia sat across from the boy - who shrank back and pulled some stick machines closer to himself - after getting a tight hug from her friend. “I’ve been well, Daradi. What are you talking about, official stamps?”

The noise that Daradi let out was decidedly unfeminine. “Counterfeit bread, Zia. People are making _counterfeit bread._ Can you believe it? They’re putting sawdust and whatnot in the bread and selling it for outrageous prices, so now we’re having to inspect all bread made and sold, to make sure it’s entirely flour, with no inedible filler added.” She caught herself and cleared her throat. “I mean, His Radiance has decided that this is the best course to take ---”

“Because Daradi told him to,” the boy giggled.

Daradi scrunched her nose up as she blushed, and reached out to tweak the boy’s nose. “Yes, ‘Tamen, because as one of his advisors, I _advised_ His Radiance that the crown would do well to step in and ensure the bread we feed our citizens with is actually good for them. Speaking of …” She reached behind her and pulled back a plate of meats and vegetables, putting it in front of the boy. “Eat. I can’t send you back to your mother and brother hungry.”

She got a groan. “I’m not hungry.”

“Impossible. You haven't had anything all day.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever met an eight-year-old who wasn’t hungry,” Zia commented.

Tamen cast her a huffy, if very shy, glance. “I’m not eight. I’m eleven.” He looked back down at his figures. “I’m just small.”

“If you don’t eat,” Daradi told him, “I will start calling you Itie, because you are itty-bitty.”

He poked at the food. “I’ll eat if you marry my brother.”

She laughed and pinched his cheek as a young woman brought over two more plates of food. “Then you will starve, Itie. Your brother is hardly interested in _me.”_

The boy looked down again and took a bite. “He thinks you’re beautiful,” he mumbled through it. “He told Marad.”

That had Daradi laughing as it dawned on Zia that the young boy sitting with them, reluctantly eating, was Crown Prince Itamen. It explained the Vanguardsmen all around them. “Your brother thinks _all_ women are beautiful - _I_ am _hardly_ an exception.”

Zia leaned forward. “Wait - Daradi, is the _king_ in _love_ with you?”

“Yes,” the prince stated firmly.

 _“No,”_ Daradi corrected him even more firmly. He heaved a long sigh and concentrated on his food. She looked up with a shake of her head. “No, Zia, His Radiance is _not_ in love with me, no matter _what_ His _Little_ Radiance says.”

“Mother says he is.”

Daradi pursed her lips, then smiled and reached out to take Zia’s hand. “Are you coming to the Palace for Liberation Day? I made sure you got an invitation.”

“Well, if my future Queen wants me to come, how could I decline?” She got an exasperated huff while the prince giggled to himself. “Yes, we got the invitations this morning, thank you. My parents were quite pleased.”

Daradi’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Something I did pleased your mother?”

“Not as much as proof that you were sleeping with the entire Vanguard would have,” Zia giggled, “but yes. Being able to meet the king pleased her _greatly.”_

 _“Zia!”_ Daradi covered the prince’s ears as she laughed and blushed. “We’re in public!”

“Well,” and she couldn’t keep the smugness from her voice, “I expect to be engaged by Liberation Day, anyway.” It would be the perfect time for Thenoran to propose, actually. Zia’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Daradi’s eyebrows went up. “Oh? I didn’t know you had a beau. Do tell. Oh, Kamari ---” She turned for a few minutes to talk with one of the young women scurrying around, then turned back to Zia. “I’m so sorry. Go on - you never told me about him. Does your father approve?”

“He doesn’t know.” Her friend’s face melted into cautious disapproval and Zia sighed. “It’s _fine,_ Daradi. He’s a good man, and Father will approve. Besides,” she sniffed, “not _all_ of us can be as independent as you.”

“I’m not judging you,” her friend said soothingly. “I just want you to be safe and happy. _You_ know how men get. You ---” She cleared her throat and glanced around, then leaned forward. “You _aren’t_ letting him … I mean, this is none of my business, but you _are_ making sure he … he has _reason_ to marry you?”

Her suspicion stung no matter how on-point it was, and Zia bristled. “He _loves_ me, Daradi, and is a good man. But if we’re talking about protecting our reputations and marriageability, what about you? You stay over at the palace quite often, and you collect rent on your own - do you think people don’t talk?”

 _“I_ don’t _need_ a husband,” Daradi pressed. “Not for financial support. I enjoy working, and _if_ I marry, it will be for love - and I understand what a privilege that is. I don’t want you to be …” She sighed and sat back. “Well. You understand.”

Zia coughed. “I … I do. Thank you for your concern, but trust me, everything will be fine. Just … don’t tell my parents.”

That made Daradi snort. “As if your mother would listen to a word I said.” She looked up as the door opened, the chimes above it signaling a new arrival, and the way her face lit up - and the way she tried to hide it - made Zia turn as her friend stood.

“Ah, Your Radiance! Itie, finish your food. Tremon,” she called as the king made his way to them with a broad smile, “bring the ledger.”

She turned to Zia with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Zia, I have to get back to work. Do you want to know what your nobles are up to?” she said as she waved the ledger she’d been handed in the king’s face, transitioning between banter and business without pause. “Zia, we should go shopping for materials for new dresses for Liberation Day. I will send a servant tomorrow.” She nearly hit the king on the head with the ledger in irritation. “Do you know what they’re doing?” she asked again.

His Radiance, who had crouched to greet his younger brother and get a hug, looked up with a warm, playful smile. “No, but I expect you will tell me in great detail, as well as how to fix the situation.”

Daradi put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips as she looked down at the king. “Kings shouldn’t be sarcastic to their citizens.”

“That is _not_ what you said yesterday.” He stood and grinned down at Daradi.

She frowned up at him. “Well, you shouldn’t be sarcastic to _me._ Now look, I have about twenty nobles and merchants _today alone_ who I am going to _throttle,_ and if you look here …”

They were standing close enough that their arms pressed together, and the king quite frankly looked like he was paying more attention to how Daradi’s hair smelled than what she was actually saying. Zia was a bit sore that her friend hadn’t introduced her to him, but they would be properly introduced at the Liberation Day celebrations.

She was handed a bag of maize bread on her way out the door and passed it to the servant boy who had accompanied her after giving over her shards. As wonderful as it would be if Daradi married His Radiance, she hoped they wouldn’t announce it until Thenoran had proposed and her father had accepted.

Then again, maybe they wouldn’t marry - Daradi had enough money that she could afford to be a man’s mistress. She’d been right when she’d pointed out that she didn’t need a husband to support her. It flew in the face of tradition, but she was doing well as a businesswoman in her own right. Her father had been wise to train _her_ to take over his business, as opposed to Ranaman.

Well, it didn’t matter. Thenoran would propose, and Zia wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. If Daradi got her way - and it seemed that Daradi got her way often with the king - there would soon be a need for female magistrates, though they wouldn’t be Sun-Priests, of course. Zia would be not just a magistrate's wife, but a magistrate in her own right, and she would be able to keep innocent people like her father out of jail, so no child would ever have to wonder why their father was gone and if he would ever return again. Those three years without him had been terrible, but they’d been lucky that he hadn’t been sacrificed. Whatever her mother had done to convince the priest who had presided over the trial that the murder her father had been accused of didn’t warrant the death penalty for him, she didn’t know, but she was glad it had worked.

“Mama! Papa! I’m home!” she called as she unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “I wasn’t murdered, and despite Daradi _and_ some Vanguardsmen being there, there was no orgy!” The servant giggled as he trotted off to the kitchen. Zia headed up the stairs, only to turn back around midway up and squeal with disgust as her mother’s cries of pleasure reached her. “Ew! Ew!”

There was faint laughter from her parents’ rooms, and she escaped to the kitchens to get some tea before heading to the garden at the back veranda of their townhouse. Her herbs were coming in nicely. She tended to them before picking up a book of legal rulings, and curled up on a lounge chair with her tea until her younger brother - who got to do anything with anyone with no protest from her parents - wandered out and let her know dinner was ready. It was about all her parents would let her do at so late an hour, and she promised herself that she would give her own daughters more freedom than she herself had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> avad's a sub i don't make the rules


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girls' day out takes an unexpected turn at the end.

_“Ziaaaaa!”_ Her brother pounded on her door and Zia almost smeared her lip color as she jumped. “Daradi’s here! She brought Captain Erend!” She could hear him run down the stairs, yelling with excitement. He idolized the Vanguard as much as their mother despised them.

She fought a wave of dizziness as she stood up and considered asking Daradi to postpone their shopping trip, but it had taken them a month to arrange it due to Daradi’s schedule, so if she plead illness, they probably wouldn’t get to go at all. She took a few deep breaths and a sip of wine before making her way downstairs. Captain Erend was indeed there, taking up space by bulk and presence, grinning as he showed Ilpep what looked like some wrestling moves. Her mother was looking unamused, but her father seemed content to let the roughhousing go on. Daradi was at the foot of the stairs with a small packet of parchments and turned to smile at her.

“Well, Pep wants to join the Vanguard.”

“Oh, please, take him tonight,” Zia begged with a smile for the captain. “I’ll pay you.”

Captain Erend guffawed as he got Pep into a headlock. “Sure, we’ll take him. Put some muscle on him. Look at your pa, kid. He’s built real good. You don’t look a thing like him.”

Pep was slender where their father was all burly muscle covered in a layer of fat, and struggled with a scowl. “Anything to get me away from _Zia.”_

“He takes after me,” their mother spoke up as she pulled Pep away from the captain and close to her. He was a head taller than she was, so it didn’t come across as quite the protective gesture she’d meant it to, but it worked well enough. “Are you quite done yet, Captain? When can I expect my daughter back?”

“It’s fine, Pana,” her father cut in. Captain Erend was looking somewhat bemused as to her mother’s clear dislike of him. “Captain Erend is an honorable man. I trust him with Zia.”

The captain scratched the back of his neck. “Is there anyone bothering you? I can … dissuade him. Politely. I’m a real nice guy.”

Zia picked up her pouch of shards off of the small table by the stairs and giggled a bit as she pushed at Daradi’s shoulders. “No one’s bothering anybody. Come _on,_ let’s _go.”_

“Be home by dark!”

She called back a vague reply to her mother as they headed out, then linked hands with Daradi. Erend trailed after them. “What did the captain do to have to babysit us?”

“Hey, I take the beats I wanna take,” was his cheerful reply. “I don’t mind following Daradi. It’s a nice break. What’s with your mother?”

Daradi glanced at her as Zia shrugged and looked over her shoulder. “Papa was accused of murder sixteen years ago - the man who did it was Oseram and looked a lot like Papa, but the laws at the time presumed guilt, and it was up to the accused to prove their innocence. Papa spent three years at Sunstone Rock. Mama ... isn’t fond of Oseram.”

The captain shrugged. “Wow. Sorry to hear that. I hope they caught the guy.”

“They didn’t.” Zia turned back as they entered the market district and bumped shoulders with her friend, grinning. “So, Daradi, will you be dressing to match anyone?”

“Anyone who chooses the same colors that I do,” was the non-committal response. There was a chuckle from the captain. Daradi ignored him. “What about you? How are things with your beau?”

“Yeah, let’s gossip about Zia instead of Daradi, for once.”

“Captain, _please.”_

“Which, ironically, is _exactly_ what Avad would say if you told him to.” Daradi turned at the front door of a shop and raised a finger, and Erend cowered good-naturedly. “Alright, alright, I get it. You ladies have fun - I’ll wait out here. Too many delicate things in there.” He patted his armor with a grin.

“The king is _not_ interested in me,” Daradi muttered as they walked in. “But when are you getting engaged, Zia? I don’t know a _thing_ about this man.”

Zia concentrated on the bolts of fabric in front of her. “Oh, Liberation Day would be the ideal time for his proposal. He’s known to my father, so it won’t come as a complete surprise.”

“Your father still doesn’t know …” Daradi let out a slow breath. “Well, at least he knows _of_ him. And he’s a good man? He can support you?”

“Of course he can,” Zia sniffed. “I would hardly marry a _poor_ man. And yes, he is an _excellent_ man. I will be seeing him tomorrow.”

“That’s good. Green? What do you think of green?” Daradi was holding a bolt of fabric up, looking at it critically.

“It isn’t fashionable _now,_ but if _you_ wear it, it will be. It goes with red and white, as well.”

“I’m not dressing to match anyone,” her friend insisted yet again.

Zia shrugged with a smile. “But you _like_ the king.”

“I like _everyone,”_ Daradi replied, “and even if I _did_ have … feelings … for His Radiance, it would be presumptuous of me to say anything. And I refuse to give the impression that I’m trying to use my position as his advisor in order to marry him. I would like to give the exact _opposite_ impression. I just … I just want to help him do good.”

She’d said it softly, with a smile, and Zia once again bumped shoulders with her playfully. “Oh, well, in _that_ case, I completely believe you. Well, we’ll dress to match each other, then. Here,” she said to the shop attendant, “help us make green fashionable.” Another bout of dizziness hit her and she swayed, then had to sit with Daradi on one side, helping her. “Oh, my …”

Her friend was concerned, her brows furrowed. “Are you alright? Are you ill?”

A bit of nausea reared up. Zia held the back of her hand over her mouth and nodded. “I just … need a moment,” she whispered. “I haven’t been feeling well, lately. Ah, may I have a bit of wine, please?”

“Of course. Marala, please get us some wine.”

“You know everyone’s name,” Zia whispered. “You’re so kind, Daradi.” They sat together and sipped wine until she was feeling better. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Do you need to go home?”

“No!” Daradi drew back a bit with a blink. Zia ducked her head and lowered her voice. “No, please. I rarely get to go out without at least a servant. I want to stay out.”

Her friend let out a sigh and pat her hand. “As you like. I hardly get any leisure time, myself. Oh, His Radiance agrees that female magistrates are a good idea, by the way.” Zia perked up as adrenaline shot through her. That meant Daradi had talked with him about it, which meant he might know about _her._ “The men, of course, threw polite fits - women can’t be Sun-Priests, and besides, how can we trust women to not bring their womanly issues to court?” Then she laughed a little. “His Radiance’s response was to ask why we can trust men to be impartial, but not women, and said that one needn’t be a priest to understand the law. The Nora delegation was with us. He really _is_ a clever man - they didn’t threaten to stop trade if more women weren’t put in positions of authority, but they didn’t … _not_ threaten it. So,” and she sat up a bit with the slight shoulder-wiggle that said she was excited, “as soon as I can get Lord Bakanit to sell me his empty building, I can get the women’s college running. You’ll apply, of course.”

They’d stood to let themselves be fitted, and Zia fingered some sheer gauze. “If Papa will let me. But I’m certain he will.”

“His Radiance wants every woman with an interest in the law to apply, and will make that known when we start taking applications. You father will have very little choice. I can speak to him - _he_ doesn’t seem to have an issue with me.”

“He understands that His Radiance’s changes are inevitable, and it would be useless to resist. So long as it doesn’t prevent me from marrying well, he will _probably_ only grumble a little. Besides, he knows how important this is to me.”

“You can come back next week for a new fitting, ladies,” the shop girl told them.

Daradi squeezed her hand with a smile. “Thank you, Marala. I appreciate you squeezing us into your schedule.”

“Of course, Lady Daradi. Anything for you.”

“Come on, let’s get lunch!” Zia pulled Daradi out of the shop and laughed as the constant wind across the mesa blew the silk of her false sleeves over her face. “Let’s go to a restaurant. Mama hates restaurants.” Then she stopped and pointed to Daradi’s face with a frown. “What is _that?”_

Daradi touched her cheek gently with a matching frown. “What? What’s what?”

Zia touched right below what should have been a small circle at the corner of her friend’s right eye. _“That!_ You have a heart on you!” Daradi’s eyes flew wide with surprise and her mouth formed a tiny ‘o’ as she started to blush. Zia skipped a little as she laughed. _“Daradi,_ you sly girl! You _do_ have a man! Who is he? Where did you meet? How long has this been going on?”

Daradi covered her face with a groan. “Oooh, I’m going to kill him … I do _not_ have a man, or a woman, for that matter,” she insisted as she waved at the heart that had come to signify a woman had a lover - on the right for a man, on the left for a woman. “He just … he likes doing my … I mean ...” There was no way for her to finish without it seeming like she did, in fact, have a lover. Zia just kept grinning. Daradi pressed her fingers to her temples as they walked. “Look, I never meant to start a trend, alright? I just … My makeup smeared one day, and ---”

“Davad.” They both turned to look at Captain Erend in surprise. Zia had forgotten he was following them. He was grinning. “He joined the Vanguard a while back. Some noble’s son. Good kid.”

That had Zia pursing her lips a bit as she thought. The name was familiar, and she snapped as it clicked. “Oh, the one you met at your estate?”

Daradi nodded. “Ah, yes. Him.” She cleared her throat and looked up at the blue sky, dotted with small white clouds. “It was the anniversary of … of my parents, and I had been crying, and he was, ah, kind enough to help with my makeup after. He thought a heart would make me feel better. I never meant for it to _mean_ anything.”

Zia squeezed her hand. “Well, I want to meet him.” She got an exasperated look. “What? I ought to meet your beau.”

“He is _not_ my beau, for one, and two, if _you_ get to meet _him,_ why can _I_ not meet _yours?”_

“As if Mother would let me go to another mesa,” Zia snorted. “I get to go to the main one _only_ when there’s a reason to and _only_ when accompanied by a man. Not that I necessarily disagree with needing an escort, but we _are_ a _little_ short on men in my household these days, and I hate taking Pep. He’s being _such_ a brat lately.”

“Women shouldn’t _need_ male escorts,” Daradi sighed.

“But what if men accost us? It’s for our own safety.”

“Well, if we taught men to _not_ accost women, maybe that wouldn’t happen. Adults of any gender shouldn’t need to be watched like children.”

“Look,” Zia said as they got to the restaurant and stepped inside, “we both know what happens when a woman is unaccompanied by a male relative. Men just ---”

“Ranaman would ‘accompany’ me around to try to sell my virginity to pay off his debts,” Daradi cut her off. She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and didn’t look at Zia as they waited to be seated. “Please do _not_ try to tell me that women are somehow safer with male relatives than we are on our own.” Zia was quiet; she didn’t really have a good argument in return, she just knew that proper women weren’t supposed to go out alone. Daradi sighed. “But who knows? Maybe Ranaman and his friends were the exceptions, not the rule. Which reminds me, this is for you. Please don’t argue.” She handed Zia an herb pouch, and inside were smaller packets, some mixture meant to be brewed once. She smelled it and her eyes went a bit wide as Daradi continued in a low voice. “There are plenty of reasons to drink that tea - it eases cramps and makes your flow lighter and shorter, _and_ more reliable. I used to get incredibly bad cramps until I started drinking it on a daily basis. Just one cup a day is all you need - this is the mixture the Nora use.”

“Are you _trying_ to get me in trouble?” Zia hissed as she shoved the pouch back at her friend. “Mother will _kill me_ if she finds these! I’m not a whore, to be taking this.”

Daradi refused to take the pouch, clasping her hands behind her back instead. She shook her head. “Well, I’m no whore, either, and _I_ take it. Do you _like_ being laid up in bed when you bleed? I know _you_ get bad pain, as well.”

“My blood is perfectly manageable, and I won’t be seen as promiscuous,” Zia insisted as she glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“The tea doesn’t _just_ prevent pregnancy,” Daradi pressed, “and in no way means you’re having sex with a man. Besides, _if_ you were, wouldn’t you _want_ to keep from getting pregnant?” She shook her head. “Zia, please. Just take it.”

She ought to accept it. She knew that. She ought to have asked Daradi for the tea right after she and Thenoran had first lain together, but everyone knew that women who took those herbs were loose women, the sort of woman no proper man wanted to marry. Zia wasn’t a slut - she was only with Thenoran, who she was only with twice a month at most, who wanted to marry her but couldn’t right now - and he wasn’t actually inside of her that often; most of the time she used her hands or her mouth, and that was it. She wasn’t in any danger of getting pregnant.

They had been sitting at a balcony table upstairs for some time when Captain Erend apparently decided the silence had gone on long enough. He cleared his throat after they’d been brought hot tea and a water pipe with flavored tobacco. “Yeah, Avad wasn’t happy when Daradi collapsed.”

Zia jumped a bit. She’d forgotten he was there and had been listening. “What?”

“The blood cramps.” He gave them a wide-eyed, innocent look when they both stared at him. “What? I know women bleed. Ersa took the tea, too, and _she_ wasn’t sleeping with anyone. She was nicer when she took it. Less stabby.” He scratched the back of his neck and leaned against the ornately-carved balcony railing. “I don’t think her cramps were as bad as Daradi’s, though - we all kind of freaked out when she passed out. Avad insisted she start taking the Nora tea right away, after Nasadi explained what was happening. If there was ever a competition for worrying, yeesh, that man would win.” Daradi had the grace to look embarrassed. Captain Erend didn’t. “Besides, I’m pretty sure a lot more women drink it than let on.”

 _“Married_ women, maybe,” Zia huffed. “And _with_ their husbands’ permission.”

Daradi blew a few smoke rings as she tilted her head back and looked out over the twisting buildings of the city. “And once again, men get to do as they please while women are tightly controlled.”

Zia rolled her eyes and refused to acknowledge that she might be jealous of Daradi’s freedom. “Well, not _all_ of us have the generosity of the king to rely on.”

She got a smoke ring in the face as her friend leaned forward suddenly, and coughed. “I don’t.”

“What?”

Daradi passed the pipe over and the sweet smell of it made Zia’s stomach twist, so she just held the tip against her lips without inhaling. “I don’t rely on his generosity. He would buy Bakanit’s building for me - has offered several times - but I refuse to be seen as using him in any way. Too many do that already, and I need to be taken seriously as a businesswoman. That means I need to make deals on my own. So I don’t rely on the king for anything, if I can help it.”

A server came up to take their order and after she’d gone, Zia watched the fluttering of streamers in the wind as the sounds of music drifted to them both through the restaurant and up from the streets. “Well. You’re doing well, I think. Papa admires you, even if Mama thinks any woman doing anything on her own is a whore.”

“Didn’t she work, though? When your father was in jail? I remember you moved.”

Zia nodded. “She worked because she had to - we moved in with the priest who presided over the trial, and she worked as a maid to help pay off our debt to him. His wife didn’t like us very much, especially when Mama got pregnant with Pep.” Daradi frowned into her cup of tea and Zia tilted her head. “What?”

“So … your father went to jail, _then_ your mother got pregnant? Or she was already pregnant when he went to jail?”

“No, it was almost a year after he went to jail.”

Daradi’s face twisted into a hesitant look. “Ah … Zia … Sunstone Rock didn’t allow visitation. No jail did, or does, for that matter.”

That made Zia smile. “Sun-Priest Tonireth was able to get them to let her visit him. He really cared about our welfare. And one of the things I want to concentrate on is reform in the prison system - do you think His Radiance might agree that allowing families to visit prisoners would be a good idea?” She twisted her sleeve a bit as she asked the question. “You needn’t ask him - but do _you_ think it’s a good idea?”

Daradi thought about it before nodding slowly. “I think … I think that it has merit, at least for certain offenders. You ought to write up a proposal for it. Go into as much detail as you can. I can help.”

Her confidence disappeared at the suggestion, and Zia drew her shoulders in a bit as she looked down. “Oh, I couldn’t. I … I’ll ask my tutor if _he_ will.”

“Why? It’s _your_ idea, and you ought to get the credit for it. I know how much you missed your father; it would be a good incentive for people to reform and rehabilitate. Janeva will throw a fit about it, but he’ll come around.”

Zia’s heart skipped a beat at the name. “You’ve met Janeva? _The_ Janeva?”

That got her a laugh. “Yes, I’ve met Warden ‘I used to be in His Radiance’s honor guard before I got put in time-out at Sunstone Rock’ Janeva. He _does_ prefer the old way of doing things, but he also understands that His Radiance’s way is better in the long run. He’s a good man.”

She leaned forward. “Is he as handsome as they say?”

Daradi rolled her eyes with a slight smile. “Of course. Why ask about how he could help you when you could ask how handsome he is?” Zia huffed a little, and Daradi set the pipe down. “Yes, he is … attractive. And really, the one you will need to convince that visitation would be a good idea, since, you know, he runs the prison.” She took a sip of her tea and looked at Zia out of the corner of her eye. “He’ll be at the Liberation Day celebrations. Sunstone Rock will be empty by then, His Radiance was saying, so Janeva can come back for a visit for a while. Do you want to meet him?”

Zia sat back and fluffed her hair as she raised her chin, earning her an amused snort. “Of course I would be honored to meet a hero of the Liberation, but I _do_ expect to be engaged by then.” She paused. “But he _is_ handsome?”

Her friend laughed. _“Yes,_ Zia, Janeva is handsome. Commander Balahn will also be there, and yes, I have met him, as well, and yes, he is _also_ handsome. You will have plenty of handsome men to dance with, I promise.”

Thenoran would be upset if she danced with other men, but she so very much wanted to. Zia shrugged. “Well, I expect to only dance with _one_ man, so ---” She sat up suddenly and leaned over the railing. “Pep! What are you doing here? Did Papa say you could go out?”

Her younger brother - surrounded by a group of his friends - looked up and groaned theatrically. “Shut up! I can do whatever I want!”

“You better get back home! Mama will worry!”

He muttered something sarcastic and ignored her, and Zia sat down with a huff. “I wish I’d been born a boy. Pep is only fourteen and gets to do whatever he wants.”

“Or, and this is only a suggestion, we could work on extending women’s rights. His Radiance agrees, and so do Balahn and Janeva,” Daradi said quickly as Zia opened her mouth. She shut it, and Daradi smiled. “Times are changing, Zia - even if _you’re_ content to be treated like a child all your life, at least help others have the _choice.”_

It _was_ nice to be out without her father or Pep. It _would_ be nice to at least have the _option_ of going out without an escort. Zia shrugged. “Fine, do as you please. I won’t join your crusade, but neither will I stop it.”

Daradi and Captain Erend both guffawed. “Well, since Zia’s agreed to not crush us puny mortals,” he chortled, “we can get on with things. Like the food!” He was sitting at a table next to them, giving them privacy while still watching over them, and dug into the food as it was brought out. “You Carja over-spice everything,” he mumbled through a mouthful. He didn’t stop eating.

“And you Oseram under-spice everything,” was Daradi’s pleasant reply.

“Bah.”

They stopped at a few more shops after lunch - most of Zia’s neatly wrapped up for later, as the smell had once again turned her stomach - and the street lanterns were just being lit when they got back to the mesa she and her family lived on. The air carried the scents of cooking meals on it, and the setting sun bathed the buildings in a golden-orange glow. Captain Erend had insisted on carrying everything for them, calling it a matter of honor to prove that he could. He was only regretting it a little when they stopped at Zia’s townhouse. Daradi hugged her tightly and once again pressed the packet of tea into her hands, and this time Zia didn’t try to give it back. She didn’t have to use it, after all, and taking it would make Daradi feel better.

“Mark the days,” Daradi told her. They dropped air kisses on each other’s cheeks. “One week, and we’ll get fitted again. We’re cutting it close, but Marala is a dear friend of mine.”

 _“Everyone_ is a dear friend of yours,” Zia told her with a smile as they hugged again. She needed to find out what Daradi used to perfume her hair with - it smelled heavenly. No wonder His Radiance had been more interested in her hair than what she’d been saying, the month before.

“This is true,” Daradi laughed, “but Marala makes my clothing. Goodnight, dearest.” She leaned in to press a final kiss just above Zia’s ear, whispering, “When did you last bleed?” so softly that Zia almost missed it before she turned and walked off with Captain Erend.

Zia was left standing in her doorway, her shopping bags already taken inside by servants and her mother coming to stand disapprovingly next to her, watching Daradi and Captain Erend laugh as he juggled his lighter load. Her stomach felt like it had dropped out of her and she didn’t know what she told her mother, but she found herself in her room and staring at the small calendar that she tracked her monthly cycle with, kept hidden in her clothing chest. It was almost the full moon, which meant she ought to have already gotten it, but the last tiny dot of red on the calendar was almost two months back. Too far back. Her monthly blood was rock steady, nearly to the minute. She always knew exactly when she would start - it was always an hour or so after she started cramping. There was no way she had simply … missed … a month.

Another bout of nausea reared up and Zia gasped and covered her mouth as she threw the calendar away from herself, sinking onto her bed and cradling her stomach. She bent over and rocked a bit with tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to run out and beg Daradi to come back, to help her, to tell her what to do. Daradi knew everything. Daradi had helped Kasara when _she_ had gotten pregnant, had hidden her away the entire pregnancy to keep her from being kicked out by her family, and now Kasara was one of Queen Nasadi’s handmaidens and the king apparently loved her daughter, and Kasara was sporting a heart at the corner of her left eye these days - an Oseram woman who had joined the city guard and, from what everyone said, completely doted on Kasara and her child. But that was fine for Kasara - _she_ hadn’t lain with the sun-priest willingly; he had coerced her into it. And the king had recognized her child and legitimized her. Zia wouldn’t be so lucky. If her parents found out, they would force her to get married. She couldn’t claim that she had been taken advantage of. She had gone to bed with Thenoran willingly.

Thenoran. Zia tilted over and pulled her pillow to her chest, biting into it to keep her sobs from being heard. He would be _so angry_ with her for getting pregnant. He always told her that they would discuss children later, after they were married. A sliver of hope weaseled its way through her chest and Zia gasped as she sobbed. She couldn’t seem to stop. Thenoran had promised he would marry her. He _wanted_ to marry her. This would just … hurry things along a little. And the first baby was always early. Of course everyone knew what that _really_ meant, but no one in polite company would say anything to her face - not with Thenoran at her side as her husband. And they would live together, and they would have a proper wet-nurse and nannies, so it would be easy to continue her schooling. If she told him tomorrow, he could ask her father for her hand right away. They could even be married at the Liberation Day celebrations. Daradi had invited her family, and Daradi knew the king personally, and that meant that Sun-King Avad might be a witness at her wedding.

Of course that was what would happen, and Zia felt silly for having panicked. She gulped air as she finally started to calm down. She was a mother, now, and had to show Thenoran that she could handle unexpected situations. She got out of bed and tidied herself up, tore her calendar up and threw it away, and rang for a bath. She sat in the steaming water and let her maidservant wash her hair and body, staring down at her abdomen. Hopefully she was bearing a boy - Thenoran would be so proud of her, if their first child was a boy. She wished there was a way to know its gender before it was born. Regardless, she would be able to tell Daradi all about Thenoran the following week. At least the current fashion for women was loose enough that _if_ she started to show early, she wouldn’t need her dress altered. She would need to start packing her things, need to decide which ones were suitable for a married woman and which weren’t. She could start that tomorrow.

“Please tell my mother that I have a headache and am going to bed early,” she told the maidservant. A servant was a servant, but her mother insisted they all be treated well and spoken to kindly. The girl bobbed a curtsey and hurried out of the room, and Zia snuggled into her covers, heart still beating erratically but more confident than before. Everything would work out perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *narrator voice*: everything was not, in fact, going to work out perfectly


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some m/f smut, telling Thenoran about her pregnancy doesn't quite go as Zia planned, then we've got some ladysmut while Daradi comes to the rescue.
> 
>  
> 
> _Updated 2/3 to reflect that Zia has vitiligo._

Zia’s stomach was still bothering her in the morning, but she smiled through the nausea and gently stroked it, hoping to calm the child. She’d tried her best to get a good night’s rest, however, excitement had slowly crept in, and she’d spent half the night dreaming up what her life would soon be like, what her child would be like.

She ate voraciously despite her nausea and half-listened to Pep talk about how he was going to join the Vanguard, not bothering telling on him for being out without permission the day before. She wasn’t as dressed up as she had wanted to be, for fear of her parents wondering what was going on, but she felt her silk and brocade gown - a bit old-fashioned because her mother abhorred the latest styles - was suitable enough to introduce Thenoran to his child and be properly proposed to in.

She was in her study - a small, converted servant’s room right off of hers that connected to the main hallway as well - when he arrived. She wanted to run and greet him, but that would be unbecoming of a lady and possibly give everything away.

Instead, she listened as he and her father greeted one another and skimmed over the work that he had left for her - reviews of cases, mostly, and memorizing different legal terms. She had told him that she could tackle harder subjects, but he always told her that she shouldn’t stress herself. Women were naturally more prone to stress than men, so she needed to take her learning slowly. Zia was sure she could handle a heavier study load, but Thenoran would know best.

She debated briefly over how to greet her lover and tutor, if standing as he came in or sitting, already studying, would be best. She ended up positioning herself toward the door to clearly indicate that she was waiting for him, but with a book in her lap to show that she was also conscious of the importance of studying, despite her eagerness to see him. Her stomach fluttered at the sound of his footsteps on the stairs and she pressed her fingertips into it gently before adjusting the book and looking down at it.

There was a knock on the door. “Zia, darling? Thenoran is here. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Papa,” she replied, looking up with a slight smile and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the door opened. She stood, then, and offered her hand to Thenoran, whose robes hid his lankiness and made him taller than he already was, while curtsying. “Sun-Priest Thenoran. How are you today?”

He kissed the back of her hand just briefly before letting it go with a slight bow. “Lady Iasia. I am well, thank you. And yourself?”

She inclined her head as she held her book tightly to conceal her trembling hands. “Well, my lord, thank you. I took the liberty of studying ahead - only a little,” she hurried to clarify at the way his mouth thinned and the corners of his eyes tightened.

Her father clasped his hands in front of his ample stomach. “Well. I will leave you two to your studies. Zia …”

“Papa, I’m an adult,” she protested with a smile, but nevertheless placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He beamed and kissed her forehead in return. After the door had closed behind him, Zia turned to Thenoran and smiled up at him - not too wide, because he felt that women should maintain merely a pleasant half-smile. “I have good new ---”

“I told you not to study ahead,” he told her shortly as he placed his satchett of books and parchments on the table and opened it. “You _must_ do as I say, Zia.”

His criticism hurt, but Zia nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry, Thenoran - I just, I feel ready for more.” She set her book down and took one from him, running her fingers over his as her smile wavered. “But, my darling ---”

He pulled away, almost like she’d burned him. “Don’t call me that. Someone may hear. _I_ will determine when you are ready to move ahead in your studies. You can’t handle the workload that a man can.” Zia opened her mouth, but he twirled his finger as he pulled his crimson robes up. “Turn around.”

She did as ordered, bracing herself against the wall and closing her eyes. He pulled her skirt up and rubbed his hardness between her thighs just until he could slide into her without her wincing too much. She loved the feeling of him against her slit, but it never lasted long enough. Nothing he did to bring her pleasure ever lasted long enough - women were naturally sexually greedy, he said whenever she asked for more, and ungrateful for what men did for them. But they would be able to take their time, soon, and she wouldn’t have to rely on herself or her girlfriends for pleasure.

Thenoran rocked into her until his breaths were coming in short grunts, then he pulled out and turned her around, pushing her to her knees. “Use your mouth,” he demanded. “You can redo your lips.” He held the base of his penis in one hand and the back of Zia’s head in the other, pushing himself into her mouth as the stone tiles of the floor dug into her knees. She choked a little, unprepared, but steadied herself with one hand on his hip and started moving her head so he didn’t have to. She kept her lips over her teeth and pressed firmly around him - he liked several short bobs and then one or two long, slow ones as she also squeezed her hand around his length. He kept one hand under her chin so she had to look at him, as embarrassed as she was, but she kept her gaze fixed on the silver in his beard. “Swallow,” he finally rasped out. Zia made a small noise of protest - she hated the taste of his seed and he knew it. He tightened his grip on her chin and thrust into her mouth, making her choke a bit. “It’s easier to clean up if you do, my love. You’re so good at this ...”

Zia braced herself for his orgasm and tried to swallow it all while tasting as little as possible, but she wasn’t able to fully prevent the shudder of disgust that went through her as he spilled his seed into her mouth. The taste, texture, temperature, smell … she hated it all, but he, of course, had a point. She scrambled a little to get up after he’d finished and get wine to wash her mouth out with, her body still aching for release. She had a rag to press between her legs to keep her skirt clean and rubbed it against herself with soft gasps until Thenoran rapped his knuckles on the desk and made her jump.

“If you can’t finish by the time I do, just leave it,” he told her. “You’re wasting time.” After almost an hour of her squirming as she tried to pay attention to the lesson, his gaze softened and he reached out to gently stroke her cheek. “My darling, please be patient. Just a little while longer.”

“Liberation Day?” she asked as her heart fluttered.

Thenoran blinked a little and frowned. “Pardon?”

Zia cleared her throat. “Liberation Day would be a good day for the wedding.” He laughed, a soft snort of disbelief, and adjusted his spectacles. “I mean, you could ask Papa for my hand today, and Daradi - my friend, Daradi, we’ve been friends since ---”

“I know who that woman is,” he replied coolly, “and you’re not to associate with her any longer.”

“Well, she’s one of the king’s advisors and has invited us - my family - to the palace for the celebrations,” Zia pressed on even as her heart sank. She didn’t want to have to stop spending time with her friend. “The king could be at our wedding.” She said it hopefully, almost a question, trying to get Thenoran to see how much of an honor that would be.

Instead, he snorted again. “That boy couldn’t rule his way out of a latrine. This is ridiculous, Zia. You’re not ready to be my wife.”

This wasn’t going as she’d imagined. She nodded and took a deep breath, holding one hand against her stomach. “Well, we have to get married soon, and Liberation Day is a good day.”

“Why?” he huffed.

“Well, because …” She braced herself. “Because I’m pregnant.” Zia thought that she’d prepared herself for any reaction to the news that Thenoran might have. She wasn’t prepared for the red-faced fury, or the way he inadvertently tore a scroll in half as he stared at her. He had never laid a hand on her in anger, not the way some men treated their women, but Zia was suddenly afraid that he would beat her and cowered back in her chair as he stood, towering over her.

 _“What?”_ he demanded in a low voice.

She was starting to cry. By the Sun, she hadn’t meant to cry. Thenoran hated it when women cried. She covered her mouth with both hands as the tears welled in her eyes and she shook. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I … I thought you would be happy. I’m sorry. I’m pregnant.”

Thenoran rocked back and dragged his hand down his face, swearing under his breath. He finally turned back to her and grabbed her arm, pulling her up and squeezing hard enough that it would probably leave bruises. “How could you do this?” he spat. He didn’t wait for her to stumble her way through a bewildered response before he was shoving her away from himself. “How could you go and get pregnant? You have ruined _everything.”_

“I … My love, I ---”

“Get rid of it.” Zia’s eyes went wide. Thenoran gestured at her sharply. “Get rid of it. That whore friend of yours will know how.”

Her head was spinning. He was gathering his materials. She reached out. “Who, Daradi? I don’t understand. Why would you want me to get rid of it? Darling, you said we would get married - this just pushes things up a bit. Father knows you, you’re a well-respected man, and ---”

“And if you don’t get rid of it,” Thenoran snapped as he stepped up to her and pushed her into the wall, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, _“you will never hear from me again.”_

Zia stared at him as she cried. “But … but _why?”_ she whimpered. “I love you.”

“You’re a foolish child,” he spat. She was in too much shock to try to stop him as he stormed out into the hallway, and sat in her chair sobbing silently until there was a knock at the door.

“Zia?” Daradi asked cheerfully. “I noticed last night that one of my bags got mixed in with yours, and I needed to look at some property on this mesa today anyway, so I thought I would stop by. … Zia? Zia, what happened?” The door was pushed open and the next moment Daradi enfolded her in her arms, holding her close and stroking her hair. “Oh, darling,” she whispered, “what’s wrong?”

She clung to her friend and bawled. “I’m, I’m pregnant,” she admitted after a minute or two.

Daradi sighed softly in her ear and nodded as she held her tighter. “I thought as much. I’m so sorry, dearest. What do you need me to do? Did you just realize?”

He was having a bad day. That had to be it. She’d gone about telling him the wrong way. There was no way he would abandon her. Zia shook her head. “He said, he said he would leave me if I didn’t get rid of it. He always said he would marry me. He said he loved me. Why would he leave me?”

There was a stretch of silence before Daradi spoke again. “Your beau? You told him already?”

“He, he just left. The- The- The ---”

Daradi let out a sharp breath. “Zia, _Sun-Priest Thenoran_ is your beau?” She burst into fresh tears and nodded. The word Daradi uttered wasn’t ladylike in the slightest. She held Zia’s face in her hands and looked at her with sorrow and compassion. “Zia … Sun-Priest Thenoran is _married.”_ Her words hit Zia like a punch and she gasped out loud, covering her mouth with her hands to keep quiet. Daradi looked nothing but sad. “He _couldn’t_ marry you, unless he divorced his wife, and she is … very wealthy.” It made sick, twisted sense, but Zia shook her head anyway. Thenoran wouldn’t have lied to her. But Daradi knew _everyone._ She’d been a complete idiot. “Oh, darling …” Daradi hugged her again and then managed to get her to her room and lying down.

A glass of wine later, Zia was still crying but much calmer. Daradi had told her parents something - probably that she was sick - and came back and laid down with her. She watched Zia and stroked her arm and hair. Her gentle touch was warm and solid, comforting. “What do you want to do?” she finally whispered.

Zia shook her head and stared at her friend’s dark eyes without seeing her. “I have to get married. Mama and Papa will kill me.”

“The one who should be in trouble is Thenoran, and I _will_ speak with His Radiance about him.”

Her heart stopped and she struggled to sit up. “No!” Daradi sighed as Zia clung to her. “Please, no, Daradi. If you tell him, you’ll have to tell him what I did. I couldn’t bear the _king_ knowing that I’m a … a slut.”

Daradi snorted. “He won’t think you’re a slut, Zia. He _will_ be _very_ upset that Thenoran abused his authority as your tutor _and_ a sun-priest, but ---”

“Please,” she begged. “Proper women don’t have sex until they’re married.”

“His Radiance is thirty-three and unmarried,” Daradi laughed. “Trust me, he has _far_ fewer issues with sex out of wedlock than the sun-priests do.” She blinked a few times when Zia gaped at her. “I’ve seen lovers leave his rooms in the morning,” she clarified. “He won’t think less of you for having sex. But as you please,” she conceded when the tears started falling again. “Do you know how far along you are?”

“Two months? I, I bled two months ago.”

Her friend scowled a bit as she thought, tapping out a pattern on Zia’s blanket. “Two months ago … Do you _want_ to keep the child?” she finally asked. “If you take the Carja herbs now, there may be time - barely - to end the pregnancy without damaging your fertility.”

The herbs the Nora used were meant as a long-term contraception and, apparently, had little to no effect on a woman’s fertility after she stopped drinking the tea made from them. The ones the Carja used induced a woman’s blood to flush her body out, and if used too late, could ruin her fertility or cause damage to the child without ending the pregnancy. Zia shuddered; she’d seen what those children looked like when they were born. If they survived, they didn’t survive long.

“I can’t risk it,” she whispered. “Please help me, Daradi. I need a husband by Liberation Day. I can’t tell my parents - they’ll cast me out.”

“Oh, I don’t think they would do _that,”_ Daradi scoffed gently.

Zia shook her head. “Mama has told me so many times, Daradi, that she won’t stand me having sex when I’m unmarried, or having a bastard. I don’t know that Papa would stand up to her about it.”

“Alright. I’ll help you find a husband.” Zia squeezed her eyes shut and whispered thanks. Daradi turned onto her back and raised one hand to sketch glyphs in the air. “What sort of man do you want?”

“One that _isn’t_ married.” That had her friend barking with surprised laughter. Zia snuggled up and lay her head on Daradi’s shoulder, Daradi dropping her arm to let it rest under her neck. “Honestly, I don’t deserve to be picky.”

“But you _do_ deserve a good husband. So tell me, ideally, what you want in a man, and we can work from there.”

“Ideally?” Zia sighed and watched the rise and fall of Daradi’s chest. “At least as wealthy as Papa. I don’t want to be poor. Handsome, of course. Ah … A kind man. One not easily angered. One who won’t hit his wife, even though the law allows it.”

“Not for long,” her friend muttered. “Go on.”

“An educated man - one interested in the law - who will let me continue my studies.” A stab of pain shot through her and she whimpered a little. “I, I know I’m just a stupid girl, but I _do_ love learning.”

“Yes, I am _certain_ that Thenoran told you that often.” There was acid in Daradi’s voice that made Zia blink. She turned her head to kiss Zia’s forehead and her tone softened. “You are _incredibly_ intelligent, Zia. Thenoran told you you weren’t in order to keep you reliant on him. That man _loves_ having people be reliant on him. _I_ want you to have a husband who will be _delighted_ that you have such a thirst for knowledge, and who will do everything he can to ensure you learn as much as you want.”

“Oh, I don’t deserve ---”

“Yes, you do.” Zia was silent except for a few sniffles, then Daradi spoke up again. “I think that it would be a bad idea to try to convince a man that your child is his; the timing is too off at this point, and he would surely notice.” No man would want her. Zia nodded as her heart sank. “Rather, I think we should look for a man who cannot father his own children. That way, he can claim your child as his own without fear of anyone noticing a difference in how future children would look, and if we _do_ manage to find him by Liberation Day or before, there will be a reasonable assumption from others that _he_ is the father, if no one knows he can’t actually produce children - the first baby is always early, and all.” She said it wryly, as aware as anyone of the polite lie of it. “And you don’t want to start your marriage with a lie. Is there anything else? Ideally?”

It was embarrassing to say. Zia buried her face in her hands and mumbled through them, “I would like him to … to please me. In bed. I know we women are sexually greedy, and I don’t have the right to ask, but ideally, a patient man ---”

“Wait, what?” Daradi turned a bit and propped herself up on one arm, pulling Zia’s hands down. She looked both affronted and bewildered. “What _was_ that man telling you? What do you mean, ‘sexually greedy’? That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, we never finish before men do. They have to put more effort into pleasing us.”

It had sounded a lot more reasonable when Thenoran had told her. Daradi was looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “Zia, please … please just forget everything that man has ever told you. _I_ have finished before a man _plenty_ of times, and even when I haven’t, a man who refuses to look to his lover’s pleasure is _not_ a man to be bedding.”

“You’ve been with men?” Zia squeaked.

Daradi sighed and lowered her head. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. I have. And I will appreciate you not telling anyone.”

“The king?”

 _“No._ Look, it doesn’t matter who they were. What _matters_ is that you are _not_ ‘sexually greedy,’ and have _every_ right to sexual pleasure. Did he never please you?”

Zia sighed and shrugged. “Well, a few times, at first … But he said it took too long and we would have to wait until we,” and the pain hit and she gulped back tears, “until we were married to concentrate on me.”

“Oh, Zia …” Daradi kissed her forehead and hugged her, stroking her cheek. “I’m so sorry, my dear. He sounds _awful.”_

“He said I was intelligent, for a woman.”

It was a feeble defense, yet Daradi just smiled and nodded before kissing her gently. “You are intelligent for _anyone,_ Zia. You’re good with legal matters, and you enjoy engineering. I should introduce you to the Nora ambassador. It would do you good, I think.”

Zia just hummed a bit and returned Daradi’s kiss now that she had calmed down and felt better, reaching up to cup her cheek. “I wish I were as beautiful as you. _Then_ a man would want me.”

Daradi turned her face and kissed Zia’s palm with a smile. “You are plenty beautiful, Zia.”

Her friend was always kind to her, in bed and out, and never lied, but everyone knew that dark skin was blessed by the Sun. Thenoran had praised it often. “I’m splotchy, and ugly.”

“You? Ugly? Nonsense.” Daradi pinched her cheek gently before kissing it. “Look at your cheeks. They’re adorable.”

Zia shook her head. “I’m chubby. Men like thin women, like you.”

“Men ought to be pleased with what they get,” was the droll reply, “and I’m thin because I hardly get the time to eat anything, I’m so busy.”

“I bet His Radiance likes how you look.”

Daradi shook her head. “He frets that I’ve lost too much weight. But I don’t want to talk about him. Any man with half a brain should see that you’re beautiful, Zia. I love your chubby cheeks, and how green your eyes are, and how wavy your hair is.” She ran her fingers through said hair, and Zia smiled a little. It was more a twitch of her lips that turned into a pleased sigh when Daradi ran her hand down her front. “And your breasts - they’re _very_ well-formed. Just beautiful.”

“They’re so small,” Zia protested as she propped herself up a bit to let Daradi reach around her to unfasten her heavy white metal necklace, the stylized wings clanking just slightly as it was set aside. This was usual - she would complain that she was ugly and no man would want her, and Daradi would tell her that she was beautiful and desirable, then show her exactly how desirable she was. Daradi never told her she needed to lose weight or repent for her white patches - she just accepted Zia as she was, and Zia loved her for it.

The back of her belt and dress were unknotted as Daradi shook her head with a smile. “And you can walk quickly - run, even - without having to hold them down. I envy you that. No, you relax,” she said when Zia tried to sit up fully to help undress herself. She kissed Zia again, gently, then sucked on her lower lip for a moment. It sent flares of desire through her body and Zia took in a sharp breath, sliding her arms around Daradi’s back and fumbling with the simple belt she wore. Their winged headdresses got tangled together and they both giggled as they cast them aside. Daradi kissed her deeply before pulling back to look at her, smiling as she dipped her head to kiss the tops of her breasts. “Oh, you beautiful thing … Is this alright?”

Daradi’s lips were soft and comforting, causing a tingling warmth to pool between her legs, and Zia arched her back with a soft squeak when her friend took one of her nipples between her lips and pressed down as her tongue slid over it. The first time Thenoran had pinched her nipples, he’d been aghast at the wanton noise of desire she’d let out - it had been the same noise she always made with Daradi or her other girlfriends, but he’d hated it and hadn’t touched her there since, unless she wasn’t wet enough when he wanted to be inside her.

She may or may not have murmured an affirmative to her friend’s question, but she definitely held Daradi to her as the tingling spread, Daradi’s lips and hands on her breasts encouraging it, her kisses wandering down to get every one of the white patches on her torso as she took Zia’s dress with her and whispered compliments about her body the entire way. Zia tensed and whimpered with each jolt of pleasure that sliced through her and arched her hips to let Daradi finally slide her dress off, her stomach jumping with each kiss and nibble bestowed upon it, causing her dear friend to laugh a little each time, and Daradi took her time in settling between her thighs.

She kissed from Zia's belly-button all the way down, and Zia whispered gentle pleas for her to kiss her - kiss her _there_. The feel of Daradi's hot breath on the most intimate places of her body made pleasure curl in every part of Zia, making her press her heels against the bed firmly as fire thrummed through her nerves. One hand held Zia’s hip, fingertips digging in, and the other reached up to cup her breast and toy with her nipple. Zia covered Daradi’s hand and squeezed it, her moans louder even though she had her mouth covered and was biting into her lip as she tilted her hips up and looked down the length of her body at Daradi. The sight of her friend peering back at her, seeing Daradi deliberately look down and then up again, was enough to send another spiral of pleasure coursing through her. Daradi laughed a little at the way Zia tensed, and Zia could feel her lips curling into a smile as she parted them and let her tongue slide out, dipping it slowly, so slowly, to just barely touch her. She let out a high-pitched, shuddering squeal of laughter as it tickled, and glanced toward her door in sudden distress.

“It’s locked,” Daradi whispered as she slid her tongue from the entrance to Zia’s body up, and dragged it up with a little more pressure on the next stroke. She worked her way leisurely through the sensitive folds of skin between Zia’s thighs, kneading her breast in time with the strokes of her tongue, making small noises of pleasure that thrilled Zia almost as much as her touch. Daradi _wanted_ her, made it clear with everything she did, the way her fingertips dug into Zia’s skin, the way she laughed when Zia grabbed her hair to move her to where she wanted to be licked and kissed, the way her own body tensed as she brought Zia to orgasm twice before Zia made a small, breathlessly questioning noise. She finally pulled away and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my dear?”

Zia ran her hands down her face and laughed as quietly as she could as her body kept shuddering randomly, her stomach almost sore from clenching. She couldn’t look at her friend, but stared at the ceiling instead and giggled. “Do it like … like ...” She wanted to say ‘like a man,’ but considering her only experience with a man had proven penetrative sex to be … less than satisfying, it didn’t seem quite the right way to say that she wanted to be filled.

“Like how, dearest?” Daradi whispered. The feeling of her breath against Zia’s hot, slick skin made her shudder again.

“I just …” Zia giggled and reached down to run her fingers through Daradi’s hair. “I just want you to … with your … I mean, and your …”

“I see,” her friend murmured. “You want me to do it like … this?” She kissed between Zia’s legs once more and slid her tongue out, circled it gently around Zia’s entrance and causing Zia to dig her heels into her mattress instinctively, then thrust it in and out of her body as Zia gasped and moaned. Daradi’s tongue felt better inside of her than Thenoran’s penis ever had, she thought spitefully.

She whimpered in protest when Daradi pulled back, and her friend hummed a bit. “Or … like this?” Daradi moved her tongue’s attentions to Zia’s little nub of pleasure as she slid two fingers inside of her. Zia let out a guttural groan and whispered pleas for more.

She’d finished once more before Daradi shifted and kissed up her body, still gently fingering her. “Or do you want it like this?” she whispered against Zia’s lips, shifting so that her hips were right over her hand. She rested her weight on her knees and one arm beneath Zia’s neck, slipping her tongue between Zia’s willing lips as Zia wrapped her arms around her back and legs around her waist.

Daradi rested her forehead against Zia’s as she moved her hips and fingers together, emulating the way men had sex. It was a little awkward but still felt so incredibly good, and after a while - probably because her hand was cramping - Daradi shifted again and dragged her hand from between Zia’s legs, over her waist, up under her shoulder. She lifted her head enough to shake her hair back as she smiled down at Zia, then kissed the tip of her nose.

She’d gotten herself positioned so that she was straddling Zia’s leg, their little nubs rubbing against each other’s thighs as she thrust her hips. Zia moved her hands to Daradi’s breasts and fondled them, squeezing her nipples gently. Daradi bit her lower lip and her eyelids fluttered closed. “Like this?” she whispered, out of breath.

Zia nodded and pulled her down for more kisses. “Yes. Yes. Oh, Daradi …”

They’d both finished - Zia for the fourth time, Daradi for the first - before Daradi finally let her go and settled next to her. She still held Zia tightly, though, stroking her arms, back, waist, hips - anywhere her hands could languidly reach - as they kissed gently and caught their breath.

After a while, she gave a small laugh against Zia’s lips. _“That,”_ she whispered, “is how a man should treat you in bed. Do you feel better?”

“No one but _you_ could treat me _that_ well,” Zia whispered back. She curled her hand at the base of Daradi’s neck and toyed with a lock of her glossy, straight black hair. “Why can’t I marry _you?”_ she complained half-seriously.

Daradi smiled and squeezed her hip. “I don’t want to get married right now, dearest, and I doubt that marrying _me_ would solve our _current_ problem.”

“The king legitimized Kasara’s child.”

“Well, yes, but only because I was going to brain him with a candlestick if he tried to take her away.”

That had Zia barking with laughter that was far louder than her mother approved of, but she couldn’t help it. She absolutely believed that Daradi, in a panic and wanting to help Kasara, had threatened to beat the king with a candlestick if he had tried to take the newborn away to her father.

Daradi just smiled widely and lay back with her after tugging the covers up over the two of them. She didn’t try to shush Zia’s hysterical laughter; she merely waited until she’d laughed herself out and was yawning from the wine, the sex, and the stress of the day. Then she kissed Zia’s forehead.

“I _do_ need to get going, dear. Please try not to worry yourself. I will do what I can to find you a husband by Liberation Day. I’ll most likely have to ask His Radiance, but he’ll accept that you don’t want to be named right away.”

“Thank you,” Zia murmured. “Oh, someone not _too_ much older than me? Please? I don’t want an old husband.”

Daradi nodded. “Of course. I’ll do my best. You get some sleep; I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

Zia nodded and snuggled deeper under the covers, and Daradi didn’t leave until she’d fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the immortal words of my friend justsomerain: "Get hecked Thenoran you dickbag"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zia is the definition of 'horny on main,' balahn is totally banging avad, everyone's a feminist, and _dear **god,** i hate avad's facial hair **so. fucking. much.**_
> 
> zia is also pretty badass towards some sun-priests and a handsome mystery soldier shows up, too, but can we please focus on how terrible avad's facial hair is

Why they called it ‘morning sickness,’ Zia didn’t know, but she supposed it was for the best that she was getting sick in the middle of the night, when no one was awake and she could vomit without raising questions. It _did_ mean that she was sleeping later in the day, emerging from her room almost at noon, but her parents didn’t say anything. She had started bringing a book out with her when she finally got up and hoping they assumed that she was studying in the mornings. Her father had told her the previous day that Thenoran had written him to say that he would no longer be able to tutor her. Zia had burst into tears, and gotten an awkward hug and a promise that he would find her a new tutor. 

“Well, come on then, you’ve slept enough.” Her curtains were pulled open and the sun shone right on her face. Zia whined and curled herself into a tight ball. The covers were pulled off, as well, and then Daradi grabbed her foot and tickled it. Zia squealed with sleepy anger and kicked. She got a laugh. “Come on, get up. We have the final fitting for our dresses today, and we have to hurry.”

“I’m not going,” Zia muttered. “Go away.”

Daradi grabbed her foot again and dragged her to the end of the bed even though she half-heartedly kicked and whined in protest. “Nonsense, of course you are. Come on, get up. Stop being such a baby.” She pulled Zia up and thrust a mug of hot tea into her hands. “Drink this - it will help your stomach. I put more in your desk.” Zia yawned widely and rubbed at her eyes as she sipped the tea - it _did_ help - and watched Daradi put together an outfit for her. “Are you going to get up, lazy?” she asked over her shoulder with a smile.

“’M not lazy,” Zia mumbled, “’m … baking.” Daradi laughed at the euphemism. “It takes a lot of energy to make a baby,” she whined. “I’m always tired. Let me sleep.”

She tried to fall back, but Daradi grabbed her wrist, pulling her up. “Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think so. Come on, get dressed. Pretend that I’m your husband, and you don’t want to disappoint me.”

“If you were my husband,” Zia muttered as she set her tea aside and grudgingly started dressing, “you would have been inside me last night when I needed you.” Daradi laughed again. “You make a very poor husband.”

“I make a very _busy_ husband, and if we lived closer together, I would have taken care of you. Did you write up that proposal for prisoner letters and visitation?”

 _“Ugh,_ I forgot.”

Daradi let out a small, neutral noise that still conveyed disappointment. Her breath was soft on the back of Zia’s neck as she helped her wrap her thick belt. “Well, you can work on it today. His Radiance wants to know more about it, and he’s already written Janeva about it, as well.”

Zia turned her head with a short gasp, her heart stilling and her eyes wide. “Daradi! You told him?”

She got a kiss on the cheek. “Of course I told him. It’s a marvelous idea, and he agrees. Put your shoes on.” She moved to Zia’s desk and gathered a few writing materials as Zia sulked and obeyed her.

“It won’t work. Warden Janeva won’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

“Of course Janeva hates the idea,” her friend agreed cheerfully, “but that’s why His Radiance wrote him early about it. He’s already sent back three letters in two weeks about how terrible an idea it is. He’s _quite_ put out about the notion, but he’s _also_ working through the logistics of it. He’ll come around.”

Zia threw her hands in the air. “So he’s mad at me! Daradi, you made Warden Janeva mad at me, and I haven’t even met him yet!”

Daradi leaned over her after she sat at her vanity, where there was also a bit of food waiting, and started putting her makeup on for her. Despite her protests that she didn’t have a man, she was still sporting a heart at the corner of her right eye. “Nonsense. He may be a bit grumpy about it, but Janeva delights in being grumpy. _He_ will work through the technical how-to of it; _you_ need to show him the human side of it.” She pulled the plate of food closer to Zia. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m _starving,_ but I’m going to get fat if I keep eating.” Daradi blinked at her with gently pursed lips and slightly arched eyebrows. Zia sighed. “Well, fine, I’m going to get fat anyway, but I don’t like it.” She kicked her feet a bit as she took up her fork. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to marry Thenoran.”

“Oh, yes, the already-married man,” was the dry response.

“I hate him.”

“As well you should.” Zia raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know how many women he’s gotten in trouble, but he _does_ apparently have a habit of sleeping with his female students, from what I’ve managed to gather.” Daradi snorted. “Men are useless.”

“The king is a man.”

 _“Carja_ men are useless.”

“His Radiance _is_ Carja.”

Daradi started laughing softly, covering her mouth with her hand as she nodded. The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Alright. Fine. But His Radiance’s views on women are more akin to those of the Nora and Banuk, so he doesn’t count.”

Zia leaned her head back against her friend’s chest and looked up at her. “As a man, or as a Carja man?”

She watched Daradi’s cheeks start to heat and her eyes slide to the side. “As a Carja man.”

“Oh?” Zia smiled at her obvious embarrassment and got up. “Have you seen him naked?”

 _“Zia!”_ Daradi squeaked, covering her cheeks before flapping her hands a bit. Then she covered her eyes with one hand. “It was an accident,” she finally sighed. “And we’re not talking about this.” She turned and walked out the door, and Zia followed her with a delighted laugh.

“Oooh. Is he big?”

“Zia!”

“Will you draw me a picture of it?”

 _“Zia!”_ They were both giggling as they hurried downstairs, where her mother and a few of her friends were weaving in the courtyard out back and her father was in his study, talking over business matters with another man. Daradi hesitated at the study door. “Oh, Lord Tushek, are you still looking for smiths? I know a group of Oseram who are looking for work.”

Lord Tushek, a child-sized man who designed jewelry and headdresses, looked up with a smile. “Ah, Lady Daradi. A pleasure to see you. I am, actually.”

Zia groaned theatrically and Daradi glanced at her. “Excellent. I’ll send them around tomorrow? Say, after midday prayers?”

“Of course. Lady Iasia, a pleasure to see you, as well.”

She bobbed a half-hearted curtsey. “And you, as well, Lord Tushek. Daradi, come, we don’t want to be late. Pardon us, Father, Lord Tushek.” She turned and then spun back around, hurrying to her father’s side and kissing his cheek quickly as she took the small bag of shards he’d held up. “Thank you, Papa. Goodbye!”

“Women these days,” Tushek was saying with amusement as she pushed Daradi along.

“Captain Erend!” she exclaimed with delight as they walked outside. He was leaning against the side of the building, chewing on a wooden stick that was used to clean one’s teeth. “Did Mother not let you in the house?”

“Yeah. I even told her I was house-trained and everything.” He grinned as he straightened and put the stick away.

“Oh, I bet _that_ went splendidly,” she laughed. “It isn’t personal.”

“I’d hate to be hated over something personal.”

Zia giggled a bit. “Have you really nothing better to do than follow us around?”

She got a shrug and an innocent look. “Well, I _may_ have irritated Avad a bit. It’s not _my_ fault that you all keep delicate pottery lying around where anyone could run into it,” he declared when Daradi raised her eyebrows.

“Erend was chasing His Little Radiance around the palace, _after being told not to run inside,_ and knocked over a vase,” she explained.

“It’s fixable!”

“That His Radiance’s late mother had made.”

That had Erend deflating a bit and shrugging as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well … that, too, I s’pose … D’ya think he still likes me?”

Daradi nodded. “Yes, Captain, I think His Radiance still likes you.”

That had the man breathing a sigh of relief. “Good, ‘cause he needs all the friends he can get. Hey, d’ya think Marala would make _me_ a dress?”

“Not with Liberation Day next week,” Daradi laughed. “Besides, you don’t have the physique for a Carja dress.”

“Not for _me_ me,” Erend huffed. “For someone _else._ Aloy might be there. She likes to look pretty.” He paused. “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Aloy of the Nora?” Zia piped up. She got a nod and a grin and hugged Daradi’s arm. “Oh, I’m going to meet _so many_ wonderful people at the celebrations.” Including her future husband. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought and she squeezed Daradi’s arm harder.

 _“If_ she’s there, but I do hope she will be,” Daradi said.

Zia chatted about the impending celebrations as they walked, Daradi squinting a bit as they came to Marala’s shop. “Is that …? Commander Balahn!” She waved, and a solidly-built man wearing the shining uniform of a Carja soldier waiting outside the shop raised his hand in greeting. “You came early!”

“Never,” he denied with a laugh, and Daradi made a face at him. He swept her hand up and kissed it with a bow. “Avad wanted me here as soon as possible. I thought you were supposed to be taking care of him.”

Daradi pulled her hand back and rolled her eyes. “I make sure he gets enough to eat, enough sleep, and has ample time with his brother.”

“No wonder he’s antsy. Is this your friend?” He’d turned to Zia and extended his hand, and she offered hers shyly. “My lady. I’m Balahn.”

“Iasia,” she whispered with a curtsey. “It’s an honor to meet you, Commander.”

“Everyone is my friend,” Daradi told him. “Why are you here?”

“Well,” he grinned after placing a gentle kiss on the back of Zia’s hand, “it was either hang around Avad, or enjoy the company of pretty women. It was a simple choice to make. He also wants to see Erend.”

The two men clasped shoulders as Erend made a face. “Is he gonna yell at me again?”

“You tell him that I know how to fix the vase,” Daradi said as Balahn nodded cheerfully. “It will be fine. Thank you for your company, Captain.”

“Any time. See ya, Zia.” He laughed at the rhyme, gave a bow, and then walked off toward the palace.

“Well, after you, ladies.” Balahn bowed them into the shop and then followed, unlike Erend. Zia wondered if Daradi meant for her to marry _him,_ and her hands shook as she stood in the sectioned-off area to change into her new dress. She would have to move so far away from her family, away from Meridian. It was dangerous outside of the city, and she would have to give up the comfortable lifestyle she was accustomed to in order to be a soldier’s wife. She didn’t know if she could do it. “So, why’s Janeva pitching a fit about letters and visiting prisoners? Is it official, or is he just complaining in advance?”

“He’s just complaining right now, but if he has the time to complain to the king _and_ you,” Daradi laughed, “then he has the time to figure out how to make it work. It was Zia’s idea. Tell him, Zia. Commander, will you get the parchment out of my bag and write this down, please? We need to write up a basic proposal for it.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to do, but I’m ready. Oh, it’s already partially filled out … Just a moment …” He hummed a bit. “The scribes must _love_ you.” He seemed like a nice man. Daradi always spoke highly of him. Perhaps he’d been injured in battle, and couldn’t have his own children. “Alright, my lady, go on.”

“Just take notes,” Daradi instructed him. “We can touch it up over lunch.”

“Lunch? You _do_ know the way to a man’s heart.”

He also seemed fond of flirting. Then again, it must be lonely, being so far from the city. Zia was prodded, and cleared her throat. “Ah, well …” They stepped out onto the two platforms for the seamstresses to work on the dresses, and Balahn raised his eyebrows with a smile as he watched them and waited. She blushed. “Well, if prisoners, uhm … I mean to say, with families, and wanting to, ah ...”

Daradi sighed a little as she froze up. “Tell him about your father.”

“Papa?” Zia clasped her hands. “He went to Sunstone Rock for a crime he didn’t commit. He was there for three years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Balahn murmured as he made a note. “What happened?”

Tears threatened to well up, and she blinked them back as her heart ached. “Someone was murdered. The man who did it looked like Papa, and he was blamed. He … I was ten. They wouldn’t let us send him letters, but I still wrote him every day. I didn’t see him for three years. I just … Oh, thank you,” she said as a shop girl brought her a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “I just think that, that if prisoners were able to hear from their families, it would make them feel better. I mean, the king wants prisoners to be rehabilitated, right?” Balahn nodded as he wrote. “I just think of Papa, all alone in prison and only hearing from us when Mama visited every three months, and I just …” She burst into real tears and held the handkerchief to her face, and Daradi stepped onto her platform to hug her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” the commander told her soothingly. “I encourage my men to send letters to their families and get them in return. It improves morale, and I’ll withhold letters as punishment if I have to, so I can see how it would encourage good behavior in prisoners. Daradi, you want me and Avad to tag-team Janeva on this?”

“I think he would take it better from you two,” her friend murmured as she rocked Zia. “He dislikes me.”

Balahn’s bark of laughter made them both jump. “Not hardly. You’re a beautiful woman, Daradi, and Janeva has no idea how to deal with beautiful women.”

“Does _every_ man want you?” Zia asked with a sniffle.

Balahn was still laughing. “I’m pretty sure it’s a law.”

“It is _not,”_ Daradi sighed, “and I’m sure he doesn’t want me.”

“Well, he has horrible taste in women if he doesn’t.”

“You’re a terrible flirt, Commander.”

He grinned and leaned back, spreading his hands out. “What can I say? I’m on leave. I don’t flirt on duty.”

“I hear that _that’s_ a lie.”

That made the man scowl. “Whatever that gilded idiot told you, he’s wrong.”

Daradi laughed. “I’m telling him you called him a gilded idiot.”

“Bah, he’ll agree with me. Let me write this all down.”

Zia had the suspicion that they were talking about the king, and it both scandalized her and made her feel special to be present for their banter. She let Daradi wipe the tears from her face and clean her up a bit, and held still for the rest of the fitting. After, one of the girls redid her makeup. She didn’t feel brave enough to speak until they were seated at a restaurant.

“So … Commander … will you be on duty for the celebrations?”

He shook his head and at least pretended not to notice her wince as she remembered he’d told them before that he was on leave. “Not this year, no. Which means I’ll want dances with both of you - if you’re not already spoken for, of course.”

“As if any man would deny a hero of the Liberation a dance with his lady,” Daradi snorted, “but neither of us are spoken for, thank you.”

Zia shook her head. “But you have a beau!”

Daradi pursed her lips as Zia shrank in on herself a bit and Balahn turned to her with a wide grin. _“I do not.”_

“But you’re still wearing a heart.” Zia pointed to it. “That means you have a beau. Erend called him Davad, right?”

Daradi tried to talk over her as soon as she said the captain’s name but Balahn burst into laughter, slapping his thigh hard enough to cause sparks to fly from his armor. “Davad? _Davad? Davad_ put that on you? Oh, my lady,” and he shook a finger at Daradi as he downed his beer in one gulp, “you are I are going to have a _long_ talk about this tonight.”

“I don’t have to justify anything to either of you,” Daradi huffed.

Balahn chuckled and looked her over thoughtfully. “I think you’d be good for him. But as you like,” he hurried on, raising his hands in surrender when Daradi made as if to throw her wine glass at him. “Please don’t have Avad send me back to Daytower.” He pulled out the parchment with the proposal on it, then a quill pen. “I don’t see why you can’t just ask him about this yourself.”

“Because there are rules we have to follow to petition him for something,” Daradi said as their food was brought and Zia tucked right in to it, “and I refuse to circumvent them.”

“Even though you’re the one who made them.”

 _“Especially_ because I’m the one who _suggested_ them.”

“But he’s fine with this idea. He’s very excited about it.”

“It also lets people get proper credit for their ideas,” Daradi continued. “Anyone can submit a petition, and they don’t have to take time out of their day to come visit the palace. That lets farmers and merchants get their ideas heard - it isn’t fair that a noble or merchant might take his worker’s suggestion as his own, or that something that might benefit the lower classes gets overlooked because they can’t represent themselves or their ideas.”

Balahn was nodding as he wrote and listened. “Itamen’s happy to have more time with Avad, too.”

“There’s that, too. His Radiance has ---”

“You know he doesn’t mind you calling him by his name, right? He likes it.”

Daradi sighed. “That would show favoritism.”

“Everyone thinks they’re lovers because she’s his advisor,” Zia mumbled through a mouthful of maize bread. Daradi and Balahn both looked at her. She swallowed some wine to wash it down. “That would pretty much confirm every rumor. Women can’t be as familiar with men as men can be with each other,” she pushed on even when Balahn snorted a little. She _did_ look down at her plate and lower her voice, though. “It will cause talk. And a woman’s reputation is all she has. Now … now maybe a man wouldn’t mind marrying a woman who used to be the _king’s_ lover - even if she wasn’t really - but for the rest of us? Having that sort of rumor go around would be devastating. No man would want us, and we would have to rely on our families for support for the rest of our lives.” The commander made a small noise, but when Zia flicked her gaze up to see if he was displeased, he’d merely tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as he listened. She felt brave enough to go on after another sip of wine. “And what about women who don’t have close male relatives to care for them? Not everyone can work like Daradi can. And even if we found a man to marry us, well … a lot of men are displeased to know that their wives are … are damaged goods, and some of them are … not kind about it.”

Balahn nearly spit as he scowled. “Bah, that’s ridiculous. Sex doesn’t make a woman ‘damaged goods’ any more than it does a man. I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he said when Daradi opened her mouth. There was a streamer tied to the balustrade next to him and he fiddled with it. “Not at all. I’ve seen it happen. It confused me then, and after spending so much time with the Nora at Daytower, it confuses me even more _now.”_

“Well, that’s just how things are.”

“But it shouldn’t be.” Daradi and Balahn had spoken in unison, and Zia giggled a little. “Look,” the commander continued, “here’s what we do. We go take Avad to the Embrace, right?”

Daradi laughed softly as she sipped her wine and nodded. “Go on.”

“And we leave him there.” Daradi and Zia both guffawed a little. Balahn was grinning. “No, no, hear me out. He’ll be safe enough there, he’ll be in the outdoors, he’ll get to take care of himself rather than have others do it, _and_ he’ll be _surrounded_ by women who could beat him up. He’ll love it. _Love_ it. We’ll leave him with War Chief Sona. We won’t ever see him again. _And then,_ we bring the Matriarchs _here._ It’ll do their dusty old bones good to be in the warmth, _and_ they’ll knock in the heads of anyone who thinks women are lesser than men. It’s perfect. All the social change Avad wants with none of the hard work on his part.”

“The Sun-Priests would throw a fit if women were in charge,” Zia murmured as she tried not to laugh too loud. She looked around quickly to make sure no one was hearing their borderline-blasphemous talk.

“Then we put Teb in charge,” was Balahn’s solution. _“Everyone_ likes Teb. I mean, everyone who matters, and by that I mean the women, so it’s perfect.”

“That’s because Teb actually _listens_ to us,” Daradi laughed. “And it’s always amusing when he speaks to a man’s wife before the man.”

Balahn laughed, as well. “Is he still confused about that?”

She pursed her lips a bit and tapped her finger to her wine glass. “I think he’s realized that he can blame it on confusion over cultural differences, and no one’s caught on yet. I’ve also had more than one woman ask me if it’s really possible for her to go into business, after meeting him. He’s just … _very politely_ affronted about Carja gender politics, and the merchants and nobles don’t want to upset the Nora ambassador, so they let him go through their wives and daughters, and it just … sort of works out.”

“Well, that’s good. Here, read this over.” He handed the proposal to Zia, who took it with a blush. “Well, go on. It’s _your_ idea.” Daradi leaned over her shoulder and read it with her. There were a couple of minor details to alter, but on the whole it was well-written, and he took back the annotated version with a nod. “I’ll spruce this up and we can give it to Avad to approve tonight, and Janeva should be here tomorrow to cry about it to us in person.” He grinned widely at the thought of bothering his friend.

Daradi gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you.”

“Hey, any time I can get under Janeva’s skin is a good time.” Zia got a wink and ducked her head with a giggle. “But if he starts throwing punches, I’m hiding behind _you.”_

Daradi just laughed. “I accept that. I doubt he’d try to punch you - he just likes being grumpy.”

That got a shrug as Zia - her own lunch long gone - slid her fork over to start on what was left of Daradi’s. “He’s, ah … he’s got a lot more to prove than other men.”

“Oh? Is he violent? I hadn’t got that impression from either him or the king.”

Balahn shook his head. “Not to people who aren’t asking for it.”

Daradi was nodding slowly, then looked down to see most of her food gone and Zia looking guilty at being caught. She smiled and pushed her plate over. “Is he good to women?”

“Are we marrying him off?” was the return question as Balahn looked between Zia and Daradi.

“Is he looking to get married?” Daradi countered. Zia’s heart and stomach were fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Sunstone Rock wasn’t as far away as Daytower, but it was still out of the city, _and_ it was a _prison_ \- the prison her father had been in - and she would still be a soldier’s wife, as well. She didn’t mind the thought of being a soldier’s wife - quite fancied it, actually - but she didn’t care for the loss of income that would accompany it.

Balahn seemed to accept that he wasn’t going to get a clear answer and leaned back after pouring himself more wine. “Yes, he’s good to women. Not much of a temper - he only really gets riled up about people asking if he’s a man or not.” He drank half his glass in one gulp and dipped some maize bread into the turkey stew in front of them, then took a bite and somehow managed to talk around the food without much garbling of his words. “I told him to just glue a beard on. He didn’t think it was funny.” He slid his gaze to Zia and cleared his throat. “Janeva, despite his name, is a man.”

“I didn’t think otherwise,” she murmured. “Women can’t be soldiers.”

She got an enthusiastic nod. “Right. Well, no. They can _now._ But not when he enlisted. Good. Glad we’re in agreement.”

“Besides,” Zia went on, “some men just can’t grow much facial hair.”

“Like Avad,” was the amused response.

“Oh, come now,” Daradi admonished.

“What?” Balahn asked. “Everything he’s got is all he’s capable of, and it’s terrible. Absolutely terrible. But not,” he continued over Daradi’s protests, “as terrible as when he shaves. So I’ll allow him to keep his scraggly little beard and mustache and be proud of them.” He finished the last half of his wine and brandished the cup. “No, I take it back - he shaves the sides because it grows in in patches. Look,” he went on as Daradi and Zia tried not to laugh, “he may be the Chosen of the Sun, but the Sun chose someone who can’t grow a beard worth shit.”

“Maybe he could start a wig business in the Embrace,” Zia mused. She raised one hand to her mouth in sudden embarrassment, but Balahn just laughed.

“Perfect! It’s all planned, then. My lady, do you not get enough to eat at home?”

She’d finished Daradi’s food and was trying not to eye Balahn’s, and looked down as her face flushed. “Oh, yes, I just … I’m so sorry, Commander, I’m just …”

“Don’t apologize at all,” he told her with a smile. It made his eyes crinkle up. “I appreciate a woman with an appetite. I just want to make sure you’re eating enough normally.”

“Her brother is fourteen,” Daradi commented.

Balahn nodded in understanding. “Ah. Right. I remember being fourteen - we never had any food because my brothers and I ate it all.” He waved a serving girl over for more wine. “How late were you ladies planning on staying out?”

“Not much longer,” Daradi told him.

“Forever,” Zia said at the same time.

Daradi reached out to cover Zia’s hand with a heavy sigh and offered a slight smile. “I’m so sorry, dearest. Soon, alright?”

“‘Soon,’ what?” Balahn asked. “Daradi, if you have to go, I have no problem staying with Lady Iasia if she’d like to stay out.”

Zia looked up hopefully, then back down with another sigh. “Mama wouldn’t have it. I’d be out with a man - a soldier - unaccompanied.”

Balahn almost spit his wine out. He coughed and waved Daradi off when she reached out to help. “Oh, for the - Daradi, you’re headed back to the palace, right?” She nodded. “Good. Tell Avad to be a good little king and write me a note giving me permission to escort Lady Iasia around, would you? Have him vouch for my honor, or something. If Lady Iasia wants to stay out later, then by the Sun, she’s staying out later.”

Zia looked at her friend imploringly, and Daradi pursed her lips. “I can’t ask ---”

“It’s not for you,” Balahn interrupted. “It’s for me. That man just _loves_ to bemoan the fact that he’ll never be able to properly repay my service to him - as if I _needed_ repayment - and this is just one meager attempt to compensate me. Have a pageboy drop it off at Lady Iasia’s house.”

Daradi stood up, leaned over the table, took the maize bread out of the commander’s hand as he was about to take a bite, and didn’t blink as she stared him in the eye and ate it all, herself. Balahn grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching her until she’d swallowed and nodded. “As you please, Commander.” She turned and dropped an air kiss on Zia’s cheek as Balahn chuckled to himself. “I’ll see you later, Zia. Will you be at the Day of Mourning ceremony tomorrow?”

“If Mama lets us go,” Zia replied as she returned the kiss.

“I’ll look for you, then. Balahn will look after you - he’s a good man. Thank you, Commander.”

“My pleasure.” Daradi leaned down and whispered something in his ear, then he watched her walk away before turning to Zia, leaning forward and pushing his plate to her with a grin. “Eat, eat. No need to stand on formality with me.” Zia wanted to decline, because ladies didn’t stuff their faces in public or around guests, but she was still starving and instead dug right in with a murmur of thanks. Balahn watched her for a minute or two as he sipped his wine, then spoke again. “Have you met Davad?”

“Mm?” She looked up, then shook her head and swallowed. “No. She won’t tell me a thing about him, other than that he’s a minor noble and part of the Vanguard. Well, Captain Erend told me that part. Who is he? She’s been wearing that heart for at _least_ a month, but she says it was an accident and it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Balahn was nodding, and scratched at the scar on the right side of his jaw. “That’s about it. Huh.”

 _“I_ think she’s in love with the king, but she swears she isn’t.” That got a soft laugh. “The prince was at her bakery a while ago, and _he_ seems to think the king is in love with her.”

Balahn snorted. “Well, they’ll never get together, if that’s the case, because they’ll both wait for the other to make the first move until they die of old age. Avad’s just like that.” He downed his wine and set the glass down as Zia finished his food. “Well, where would you like to go, my lady?”

She looked down at the bag of shards her father had given her, then at the sky, and hummed a little. The bag was a rich maroon leather with ‘50’ embroidered on it in gold, which meant it held fifty shards. Her father liked to be organized. There was probably a play going on that they could catch, but the library was also open. She nodded. “The library, if you don’t mind.” There would be jewelry merchants along the way that they could look at, as well.

Balahn nodded and stood, holding his hand out to help her up. “Absolutely. I haven’t seen it since it was being built.” Zia’s head swam a little when she herself stood, and she had to hold his hand tightly for a moment and breathe slowly. “Are you well?”

“Oh, yes,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and silently begged her child to calm down and not give away her pregnancy. “This happens sometimes.”

“Ah.” Balahn waited patiently until she opened her eyes and straightened with a smile, then he gestured for her to precede him out of the restaurant. Either he or Daradi must have settled the bill because no one objected to them leaving, and he cracked his neck as they walked into the hot summer sunlight. “So, what sort of stories are the ladies reading these days?”

“Oh, the usual, I suppose, but I’m not looking for stories today.”

He looked down at her with raised eyebrows, but showed nothing but interest. “Oh? What _are_ you looking for?”

Zia looked down, then up, crossing her arms tightly just under her breasts and holding her elbows. “A particular legal text.”

“... A legal text that makes you blush?”

“Well …” She sighed. “I was reading ahead a bit in my studies, and one of the cases I was reading about cited a legal opinion by, by …” She blushed just thinking of it, and glanced around to be sure they were being ignored by the people they passed. “Eloquent Tatavid,” she whispered.

She was expecting him to laugh, but Balahn just nodded. “Right, he was a legal scholar before he wrote his _Treatise._ That’s where he got the honorific.” He looked at her as she kept her head low. “My lady, I really don’t care if you know who Eloquent Tatavid is or not. I would be surprised if you _didn’t_ know who he was.”

“It’s not proper for ---”

“Bah.” He waved a dismissive hand. “What’s _proper_ and what _actually_ happens are quite often two entirely different things. You’ll be enrolling in Daradi’s college for women once it’s up and running, then?”

“She wants me to, but …” Zia shrugged. “I’m not sure.” She would have a baby to take care of by then, she might not be able to afford a proper wet-nurse and nanny, her husband might not want her to continue her schooling, or he might not want her to study law ... Daradi _had_ promised to find her a husband who would support her education, but she really couldn’t afford to be choosy about the man. “My … father might not let me.”

They’d stopped to look at some jewelry. Balahn held a small ring up to the light and squinted at it. “Eh. He won’t have a choice. Like he is with most of Daradi’s ideas, Avad is _all over_ the idea of a women’s college. He’ll drag you there himself if he has to.”

The thought of the king bursting into her home, picking her up, and carrying her off to get educated made Zia giggle, and Balahn was grinning when she looked up at him. “Daradi is very intelligent. And kind. And beautiful.”

“She is, indeed. Do you want anything?”

He gestured to the jewelry and Zia shook her head as she moved on. “No, I just like looking.” Balahn made a questioning noise and she looked up at him. “It’s just that, see, Papa gave me fifty shards - that’s ten books I can check out. More, if some of them are scrolls. And I’ve a month to return them, so that will be plenty of time.”

“You’re going to read ten or more legal texts in a month?”

Thenoran had always scoffed at how much she said she could read, but Balahn looked impressed. Zia’s cheeks heated as she nodded. “Oh, yes. Mama doesn’t like me leaving the house, so I read a lot, or have a servant read to me while I’m weaving or doing embroidery. Oh, I should make my own book bag …”

“Women are incredibly talented,” Balah observed. “What _can’t_ you all do?”

“Go anywhere unescorted.”

“Bah, it still happens.” He gestured around them, where there were several women walking alone. “I think your mother is simply overprotective of you. And possibly old-fashioned.” He was looking at her dress as he said it.

Zia shrugged. “A little, possibly. Probably.” Then she looked up at him through her lashes, feeling very brave, and asked quietly, “Are you married?”

Balahn didn’t look surprised at the question; he simply laughed and shook his head. “No, and I’ve no intention of marrying any time soon. I don’t have the time to devote to a wife right now.” Then he cracked his neck. “Then again, if a political marriage was needed between the Carja and Nora …”

They’d come to the steps of the large, freshly-built library and started the walk up, Balahn holding out his hand to help Zia and Zia touching just her fingers up to the knuckle to his palm. “But women run everything with the Nora, and men run things here. That would cause problems.”

The commander laughed. “Possibly. But I doubt Avad or the Matriarchs would ever think that that was a good idea - at least, not a feasible one.” He let her hand go as soon as they were at the top step and joined the steady flow of people into the building. It shone almost as bright as the palace in the sunlight, its bronze accents blinding to look at.

He bowed her in, and Zia skipped a step or two with happiness at being there. She adored the library - it still smelled of new paint and plaster, but the scent of books and parchments was slowly creeping in. It reminded her of snuggling with her father before bed at night as a child while he read to her, the glyphs on the pages slowly yet steadily becoming more recognizable in the dim candlelight, before it was her turn to curl up on a chaise with him in his study and read to him. They’d been reading together the night the city guard had come for him.

Zia’s steps faltered a bit but Balahn was right next to her, a gentle hand on her elbow until she’d gotten her balance again. She shook her head when he made a questioning noise, and he seemed content to not pry.

“Do you just want to move in, Zia?” the man at the front desk asked with a grin as they approached. “It would save you the walk to and from.”

Zia laughed and ducked her head. “Well … if I got a husband out of it, my parents _might_ agree to it.”

“You won’t find one in the legal section, I’ll tell you that,” Haigyik laughed. He meant it good-naturedly, but it still stung and Zia hoped her return laugh wasn’t as forced as it sounded.

“Plenty of men would _love_ a well-educated wife,” Balahn cut in smoothly. “Personally, _I_ wouldn’t want one who _wasn’t._ This way, my lady.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Zia whispered as he gently touched her elbow to escort her to the legal section. “He meant no harm.”

“But he still gave it. He seems to know how much learning about the law means to you, and he still said what he said.” The commander didn’t look happy, then grinned down at her. “So. In the market for a husband, are you?”

“Well, Daradi won’t marry me, so a husband will have to do, I guess.” That had Balahn barking with laughter, covering his mouth when Zia shushed him but still chortling to himself as they came to the area of the library that held all the legal texts and scrolls. She bit the inside of her lower lip as she looked around. “Ah … would it be under his name, do you think?” There was a small group of sun-priests standing around the ornately-carved filing cabinet that held all the names of the texts in that section, sorted by subject, title, _and_ author, as well as cross-references. There was no way directly through the group, so she tried to go around them to the left with no luck. Going to the right also didn’t produce a hole she could slide through, so she stood on her toes and tried to look over their shoulders. “Ah … my lords … if I may, please …”

She was ignored, and sighed a little. There was just no way through, and they were going on about topics she hadn’t yet reached in her studies. She placed a delicate touch to one priest’s shoulder, and he looked down at her briefly. “... Yes, girl?”

Zia curtsied just a bit. “Please, if I may get through? I won’t be long at all.”

That got her a snort. “What would a woman want with legal texts?”

“To read them, I’d hazard,” Balahn cut in. The group turned to him as tears threatened to well up in Zia’s eyes, and he made shooing motions with his hands. “Go on. There are plenty of spaces to sit and talk that _don’t_ keep people from finding what they want.”

The group didn’t look happy, but moved on. Zia whispered thanks again and started browsing through the small, thick pieces of parchment in the drawers. She knew how to find a text; she just didn’t know which text it would be in. “Well,” she finally sighed after having written down at least five possible books and scrolls that Eloquent Tatavid’s opinion on inheritance might be in, “I guess I’ll just have to read all of these.”

“Yes, you sound _so_ incredibly put out by the thought.” Balahn helped her gather most of the texts she wanted to look through, but rather than sitting her at the closest table, made a small noise of interested surprise before escorting her to a smaller table at the back of the legal section. There was a rather effeminate soldier sitting there, a scowl on his face as he looked over maps, and a stack of books and scrolls next to him. “I’ll be back,” Balahn murmured in her ear. He was grinning as he turned and walked off.

The soldier across from her glanced up briefly, blinked as if he hadn’t expected anyone to sit near him, then gave a short nod before hunching a bit lower. Zia murmured a greeting and got a grunt in return before she unrolled the first scroll and started reading it. There were cheap pieces of parchment and quills at every table for note-taking, and she absently scribbled on some as she skimmed it. It wasn’t what she needed, but with Thenoran no longer in charge of what she learned, she could read whatever she liked. She’d gotten through two scrolls before the urge to urinate overcame her, so she excused herself from her tablemate and hurried to one of the privies placed strategically around the library. She’d been needing to go more and more lately, and sighed at the reminder of the bastard child growing inside of her.

“You should just behave,” she muttered to it as she wiped with the soft parchment provided. There was soap and water to wash up with, and after she’d dried her hands and hurried back to the table, she saw that the group of sun-priests had taken it over and pushed her scrolls and notes out of their way. She let out a short scoff of hurt bewilderment and held her hands tightly over her stomach as she approached. “Excuse me, my lords, but I was sitting there.”

“No one was here when we got here,” she was told shortly.

Zia let out a soft, frustrated sigh. “But it was clear that I was, my lords - my notes are _right there.”_ She wanted to stomp her feet, but she might have to work with these men one day, and she didn’t want to start their potential working relationship off _that_ badly. “So please, if I may have my seat back?”

One of the books was picked up and looked at critically. “Are you trying to weasel more money from your father when he dies?”

“Not at all; I’m looking for a particular legal opinion.”

“From Eloquent Tatavid?” another priest scoffed as he picked up her notes. “Aren’t you in the wrong section for him? What would your father think?”

“That she clearly wants to learn about the damn law,” the soldier suddenly spoke up as he banged his fist on the table. Everyone jumped and looked at him. He had a small, curved scar on his right cheek and his messily-cut, short brown hair was held back by a red silk bandana. He was handsome, in a pretty sort of way, and Zia’s heart started to beat faster. “You deliberately came over here to mess with the lady’s studies - I suggest you go away, now.”

“We did no such thing,” the first man scoffed, “and I am _insulted_ that you ---”

The soldier stood up. “My fist is going to insult your face if you don’t leave.” Zia didn’t know much about soldiers’ uniforms, but she knew enough to know that he was certainly high-ranking - his armor matched Balahn’s. He was about her height, but still intimidating enough that the group of priests just grumbled to themselves and left. Then he turned a tight smile to her. “I’m … sorry. I wasn’t really going to hit them. I don’t like bullies.” Then he cleared his throat and stepped around the table to hold her chair out for her. “Uh, please, sit.”

She was blushing. She could feel herself blushing. She didn’t know what to say so she just giggled a little and sat down, pulling the next book over so she could start on it. The soldier sat again and she tried to concentrate on the book, but she kept stealing glances up at him to watch the way his expression changed as he read. He was taking his own notes, and when he ran out of parchment, she reached over to get him more at the same time he did. He looked up in surprise when their hands met, then coughed and looked away as Zia did, too.

“Uh … sorry.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, “I was getting it for you.”

“Oh.” He sounded faintly surprised, then cleared his throat. “Thanks. Uhm … What … what are you looking for? I mean, it’s not my business, really … I meant no offense …”

His awkwardness made Zia giggle and she looked up at him through her lashes. She might have mistaken him for a particularly handsome woman, if not for his short hair and the fact that he wore a soldier’s armor. “Ah, Eloquent Tatavid wrote an opinion on women’s inheritance rights - I mean, he wrote that we should have them in the first place. I know he’s not … _best_ known for his legal work, but …” She was blushing harder, but the soldier nodded.

“Oh, I’m familiar with his legal work. Ah, this might help?” He took one of the books from his stack and offered it to her, and though their fingers didn’t touch, the weight of the book as she took it - light as he held it, then increasingly heavy as he drew his hand back - made her light-headed.

It was, actually, just the text she’d been looking for as she skimmed it, and Zia lit up. “Oh, thank you!” She smiled widely at him and he grinned in return, an awkward twisting of his mouth that suggested he didn’t smile too often. She looked down after realizing she’d been staring, and skimmed the next few pages. “Oh, this is perfect … Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He was quiet until the sun had gone down enough that employees started coming around to light sconces on the walls, then Zia sighed and he looked up. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, I just …” She looked longingly at the book. “I just have to get home. It’ll be sundown by the time I get there - maybe later. Mama will worry.”

“Oh.” He was quiet as she gathered her things, then cleared his throat when she handed the book back. “Ah, take it. I was done with it.” It had clearly been in the pile he hadn’t gotten to yet, though, and Zia protested. He shook his head with another awkward smile. “No, really. I can read it later. The king’s working on getting at least two copies of everything in here, anyway - the scribes are working overtime. Please, take it.”

Zia was delighted, and held it tightly to her chest. “Thank you so much, my lord, I really ---”

His short laugh interrupted her as he shook his head. “I’m no lord. Just a soldier.”

“Well, thank you anyway. Will you be at the Day of Mourning tomorrow? I can give it back to you then.”

He seemed shy, and his own cheeks were a bit flushed as he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll look for you. Do you have an escort home?” he asked as she looked around for Balahn.

She wanted to say no, to have this handsome man walk her home, to talk with him more, but then Balahn would worry. So she nodded instead. “Yes, he’s around here somewhere. I just have to find him.”

The man stood up and gathered his own things. “Uh, let me help you. What does he look like?”

He wasn’t in the legal section. Zia pursed her lips. “Ah … He’s Commander Balahn, of Daytower? I don’t know if you’ve heard of …”

She trailed off as the man rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’ve heard of him.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled out, _“Oi, Balahn!”_

“We’re in a library!” Zia whispered, aghast.

 _“Oi, yourself!”_ though, was the answering call from a nearby section, and the soldier grinned.

“There you go. You, ah … have a good night.”

Zia curtsied as he bowed slightly. “I will. You, as well, my … sir.”

“Find everything you needed?” Balahn asked a minute or so later, as she rounded a row of books.

Zia nodded, her cheeks still flushed. “Oh, yes. That soldier was very kind.”

“Was he? That’s good. Let’s get these paid for and get you home.” He had his hand at her elbow again, but walked with, rather than led, her to the main counter.

“Do you know him?” she asked as they left the library. “The soldier?”

Balahn nodded as he grinned. “Yeah, a little. He’s a good man.”

Zia nodded, still smiling. “Oh. Will he be at the palace for the celebrations?”

“He’s not really once for dancing, but he’ll be there.” The commander looked at her out of the corner of his eye and grinned. “Would you like a proper introduction?”

“Oh, yes,” Zia said quickly, then looked down and said softly, “I mean, if it wouldn’t be a hassle.”

He laughed. “Trust me, my lady, it will be my pleasure.”

The rest of the walk home was silent, but pleasantly so. Her mother was waiting at the front door with a scowl and crossed arms, and Zia hunched her shoulders a bit. “It’s about time you showed up, young lady,” she started.

“Ah, you must be Lady Pana.” Balahn took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Commander Balahn, of Daytower. I trust you got His Radiance’s message?”

That brought a flush to her mother’s cheeks, and she nodded. “I did, thank you. I would have liked a timeframe, but thank you for keeping my daughter safe. Zia, you missed dinner. The kitchen girls have some waiting for you. Thank you, Commander. Have a good night.”

“Mama, stop being rude,” Zia started, but Balahn waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. I’m aware of why Lady Pana doesn’t care for soldiers. Well, my ladies, I do hope to see you and the rest of your family tomorrow. If not, then at the palace, for sure.” He bowed again before turning and walking off as he whistled.

“You were so rude, Mama,” Zia complained as she was pushed inside. “Soldiers aren’t like how they were with the Mad King. Commander Balahn is a perfect gentleman and a good friend of His Radiance’s.”

“And I’m sure he has no ulterior motives in escorting a young woman around.” Her mother sighed, then softened and hugged her tightly. “I don’t want you to get into trouble,” she murmured. “I want you to stay safe, my love.”

Zia relented, too, and held her mother just as tightly. “I know, Mama,” she whispered, “but I’m an adult. Please, just …”

Her stomach grumbled and her mother smiled, shooing her towards the stairs down to the kitchens. “We’ll talk later. Eat, then go to bed.” She kissed Zia’s cheek and Zia kissed hers back. Her mother looked sad, for some reason. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, Mama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey-ho, i got me some beta readers who are faaaaaabulous and i love them, which is why this is taking so long to update
> 
> i mean i could always update factions or something in the meantime i suppose ...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smut in the beginning because zia has been horny on main since puberty, mournful namman is best sun-priest, official lawyers get rekt, and our ~mystery man~ shows up again
> 
> _Updated 2/3 to reflect that Zia has vitiligo._

She should have gotten plenty of sleep, but between dreams of the handsome soldier she’d met and the need to vomit and urinate, Zia spent most of the night tossing and turning restlessly. She had to ask Daradi about him - he and Balahn knew each other, so Daradi must have information. Was he single, she wondered? Did he want a wife? Would he understand her situation? Would he overlook her white spots and not judge her for them? And, importantly, as she slid her fingers between her legs for the fourth time that night, would he still want to lay with her after he knew she was having another man’s child? Would he be distant, like Thenoran, or warm and comforting, like Daradi and her other girlfriends? She gasped as she gently pinched one nipple. Would he like her natural reaction to being touched there? Would he want to kiss her between her legs? Would the sex be warm and fun, or cold and mechanical?

She shivered and gasped with release, digging her heels into her mattress, and then relaxed back into it as she caught her breath. He’d seemed shy - had he ever been with a woman before? Was he inclined toward them? She giggled at the thought of a woman having to teach a man how to have sex, then hurried to get up and to the privy to urinate once again.

“You have _got_ to stop this,” she whispered to her child. “They’re all going to find out, and then we’ll be in trouble.” She washed up and when she glanced at her window, the sky was lightening with the rising of the sun. She sighed - she wasn’t going to get any more rest, so she may as well ring for her morning bath. She picked out a proper Day of Mourning outfit - all dull, muted colors - as the maid filled her bath, then insisted on washing herself to try to wake herself up. She also didn’t want the girl noticing that her breasts had grown and she’d gotten a bit thicker around the waist, and report those changes to her mother.

In fact, as the maid helped Zia dress, the top of her dress was _definitely_ tight. She let out a slow breath and rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ve been eating too many sweets,” she said lightly.

The girl giggled. “Oh, men like a good jiggle, my lady.” Zia raised an eyebrow and the maid blushed. “Not that I would know. It’s just what I hear.”

“I’m sure it is.” Once the girl had put her hair into place and slid her black-winged headdress on, they made their way downstairs to breakfast. Zia’s mother looked her over critically.

“You’ve gained weight.”

Zia flushed and ducked her head as she shrugged. “Too many sweets, I guess.”

“A man won’t want a fat wife.”

Her father, eating his roast turkey and boar, waved his fork without looking up. “Bah, men like something to grab onto. You’re fine, girl.”

“Neurhen, stop encouraging her. Look at you, child, you’re gaining weight all around.” Her mother pinched and prodded her, and Zia’s lower lip trembled.

“Leave her be, Pana. I need more wine. Go on.” Her mother huffed and walked past him, and he turned enough to give her a hearty whack on the rear. Pana squealed and hit his shoulder as he laughed and watched the way her rear did, indeed, jiggle, before turning back to Zia with a wink and a grin. “You look just fine, girl. Ignore your mother. You’re healthy, and men like healthy women.” A jug of wine was nearly slammed on the table in front of him and he laughed again, pulling Pana into his lap over her protests. “You’re hardly scrawny yourself, my love. Look at this.”

 _“Papa,”_ Zia groaned as he buried his face in her mother’s breasts. She got a chuckle from him and a half-hearted protest from her mother, and picked up her food. “I’ll just eat outside, then, shall I?” She didn’t get a reply, as her father was intent on pulling her mother’s skirt up at the very least, and hurried to the garden out back. She hardly enjoyed the thought of her parents having sex, but she did hope that she and her future husband could enjoy the same sort of relationship as the years went by, the subtle touches and pinches, light slaps to the rear, the outright throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs to make love. It was probably too much to ask for, but she could still hope.

It was half an hour later when her parents opened the door to the garden, her mother's legs wobbling a bit as she held her husband's arm tightly. “Well,” she said briskly, as if she hadn’t just been laid across the table and, for lack of a better phrase, fucked hard. “Are you ready to go?” Neurhen cleared his throat and she coughed a little. “And, I do admit, there are some men who will … enjoy … what you look like. Pep went ahead with some friends.”

“Pep gets to do _everything_ he wants,” Zia complained, but the bag of one hundred shards she was handed shut her up.

They made their way to the Sun-Ring with the other mourners, a dark and somber procession as the soft, mournful chanting of the Sun-Priests reached them. Tomorrow was for the joy of the Liberation from the Mad Sun-King, but today was for remembering those lives who had been lost, both Carja and non-Carja alike. They were lucky enough to get seats close to the edge of the Sun-Ring, Pep finally joining them, and Zia wondered where, exactly, it was that Prince Kadaman had fallen, allegedly still bellowing out defiance at his father as Sun-King Avad had turned and fled, only to return months later with an Oseram army and end the terrifying reign of Jiran. No one - at least, very few - had thought he would return at all.

The crowd eventually settled and Mournful Namman, head of the Sun-Priests by the king’s own choosing, stepped up to the central dias and firepit - it and the surrounding stone piles of candles unlit for once - and cleared his throat. “Twenty-three years ago,” he started, “the Derangement of the machines began. It started small, as things do, yet grew larger and larger, eventually spinning out of control … as things do. In his younger days, the Sun-King Jiran, progenitor of our current Sun-King Avad, was a strong leader - it is a disservice to the history of the Carja to deny that,” he said over the dissatisfied murmur that washed over the crowd. “He was strong, yes, but as the Derangement wore on, so did it wear on his mind and soul, leading him and his Sun-Priests to order the first spilling of blood thirteen years ago in the hope of calming the Sun’s anger at us. Jiran began with other tribes: the Nora, Banuk, Utaru, and mostly the Oseram, to whom we all owe a great debt of gratitude for their part in ridding us of the scourge of Jiran. When that proved unfruitful and the machines turned on the kestrals, Jiran moved on to Carja citizens. Our jails were soon empty, and while crime dropped, so fear rose.” He walked around the altar as he spoke, his voice echoing so that even the furthest mourners could hear it. Zia looked for Daradi and the soldier, but couldn’t see either of them. “More and more, our citizens were taken - some for minor infractions, some for major ones, and some for no reason but Jiran’s soldiers wanted to take them. His mind was increasingly addled, such that not even his own sons could reason with him.”

Zia and Pana, sitting on either side of her father, both reached out to take his hands and squeeze them. He had faint tear tracks falling down to mingle with his beard, and squeezed their hands back.

Mournful Namman was silent for a moment, tracing the central altar with his fingers as he circled it. “All our tribes suffered great losses - losses we can never recover, losses the Sundom can never repay our blood-debt for. The Sun-Priests ourselves also have much to atone for, and as such you have my eternal vow before the Chosen of the Sun Himself, the Fourteenth Luminance of the Radiant Line, Sun-King Avad, that I and my brothers will continue to improve our ranks and remove those who would rely on the Sun’s harshness, rather than its mercy.” He turned and bowed, and Sun-King Avad himself, who had been standing quietly at the entrance to the Sun-Ring that led to the Hunters Lodge the other way, stepped forward with four soldiers of his honor guard surrounding him, the normally-white parts of his ceremonial robes a deep maroon that was almost black, his soldiers’ own armor in the same muted colors of mourning that everyone else wore. He nodded to Mournful Namman as he stepped up to the priest, reaching out to clasp elbows with him. Unlike the other priests, Mournful Namman didn’t seem to have a problem with touching the king, much less meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said. Mournful Namman stepped back with a low bow and joined his fellow priests at the altar on the edge of the Sun-Ring. The king didn’t look down at the central altar itself; instead, his gaze was focused somewhere to the left of it, almost at the edge of the Sun-Ring. Zia looked, as well, sure that that was where Prince Kadaman had fallen. “I will not say that my father was a good man,” he began. “He fully believed in the blight of slavery that my grandfather introduced, that the Carja were better than any other tribe by virtue of simply existing, and that other tribes needed us to make them as civilized as he imagined the Carja to be. He became convinced that might, not mercy, was the answer to the Sun’s displeasure with us. The truth ---” He paused, closed his eyes, swallowed past what Zia imagined were tears, and continued. “The truth is that we know very little of what caused the Derangement, and we don’t know how to stop it. It gets worse each year, and as such we must, all of us, every member of every tribe, join together to keep it at bay. I lost my brothers to my father’s cruelty, and though Itamen was returned to me, it is my prayer that the Sun has made treaty with the Moon to give Kadaman - and all who have fallen due to the Derangement and my father’s bloodlust - quiet rest.”

He finally looked up and around at the crowd. “But others were not so lucky as I. Whole families were butchered - entire villages burned to the ground. I cannot begin to make up for the atrocities that my father and Helis committed, but it is my solemn promise to you - to all tribes - that no harm will come to you from the Sundom while I am king. And now,” he said after seeming to shake the melancholy from himself, “I would like to invite representatives from all the tribes the Carja wronged to come forth and acknowledge their lost loved ones.”

He nodded, and Captain Erend stepped forward first, holding a candle set in a wire and metal storm candle holder that was fashioned with Oseram designs, all cogs and wheels. His Radiance nodded again, and the captain cleared his throat. “I’m, uh … I’m Erend. I lost my sister - Captain Ersa - to Dervahl,” he began as he set it on the northernmost edge of the central altar. “Yeah, he was Oseram, but he also lost his mind after Jiran had his wife and daughter murdered. I saw the villages Jiran had burned; the refugees that poured into Mainspring. I hated the Carja with everything I had in me, especially after they took Ersa.” He laughed a little, then. “But then she showed up again, and then _this_ guy shows up,” and he gestured back to the king with his thumb, who only smiled a little, “talking reconciliation, taking back the Sundom, bringing peace to the tribes. I wanted to kick his ass, to be honest …” He paused to let the Carja in the crowd gasp at the disrespect he was showing, then went on. “But Ersa kicked mine into gear. I can’t bring my sister back. I can’t bring my tribesmen back. What I _can_ do is do my best to make sure that relations between the Oseram and the Carja stay good … well, at least that we don’t kill each other. So … so I guess this is for Ersa, who kept us all in line, and everyone else that we lost.” He lit the candle slowly. “May they rest easy as cogs in the machine of the world, satisfied that their sacrifices weren’t for nothing.” He coughed again and looked embarrassed. “Uh, thanks for your time.”

His Radiance nodded as the captain stepped back in a hurry, and gestured for the next representative. It was a woman in a sleeveless, woven reed dress and heavy-looking wood and metal headdress, cascades of long green grass falling from her shoulders, her white-painted hands cradling a storm candle holder that resembled twisting stalks of grain. Her face was painted white and yellow, and she adjusted her wide reed collar before setting her candle down. “I am Rea, of the Utaru. Many of my people also fell during the Red Raids. Where we offered grains of peace, the Carja offered bloodshed and violence. I was once a slave, and fled with my companion. Though she was felled by machines, I returned to Plainsong. The Carja came again, after the fall of Jiran, this time bearing peace offerings of their own, seeking to atone for the sins of Jiran. This time our offerings of grain were accepted gladly.” She lit her candle and took a breath. “May our fallen nourish the land and be remembered in the growth of new things. May the offerings of our tribes to one another always be made in peace.”

The next to step forward was a blonde Nora woman, and Zia was surprised it wasn’t Ambassador Teb. She had scars on the left side of her face, her hair pulled back into a large twist at the top of her head and smaller ones at the sides. “I am Nakoa of the Nora,” she declared. She held her chin up proudly and set her candle - in an animal hide storm candle holder that was stitched with various Nora symbols - at the southeast edge of the central altar, doing something that seemed to anchor it in place. “Throughout the Red Raids, I watched many of my tribeswomen and men fall to Jiran’s armies. I watched Jiran’s men - the butcher Zaid - murder my father as I hid in the cellar. I spent years tracking him, but was kidnapped in return. I was aided by Aloy of the Nora, who saved us all from the machine HADES, and was able to exact my vengeance on Zaid, may All-Mother forget his soul. Where once I hated all Carja, I choose now to remain in Meridian to find and help other victims of slavery.” She lit her candle and watched as it tried to rise up in the air. “May All-Mother take into Her embrace all who we have lost, and give us the strength to move on and make our world - our tribes - a better place for all.”

She stepped back, and a burly Banuk warrior in thick furs that had Zia wondering why he hadn’t passed out in the heat yet stepped up in her place, placing his candle - wrapped in the glowing blue tubes of a machine - on the northeast edge of the central altar. “I am Aratak, of the Banuk,” he declared. “I, too, witnessed Jiran’s cruelty, though he was less able to penetrate Banuk lands as he was the rest of the tribes. Still, his men crept in to the Cut and took my people in the night, left blood in their wake despite our tribe’s might. We did not expect Avad to keep his promises when his envoys arrived, did not expect him to try to make amends, much less find those who were specifically responsible for the raids on the Banuk and bring them to justice, letting our own envoys watch the proceedings to make sure we were satisfied.” He lit the candle and vowed his head briefly. “For those who have ascended into the Blue Light, may their sacrifices purify the hearts of humans everywhere.”

The Tenakth were notably absent as Sun-King Avad stepped forward again - not even at his maddest had Jiran dared to try to plunder their lands to the south of the Sundom. By his side, representing the Carja who had fallen to the Mad King, was Lady Talanah Khane Padish, Sunhawk of the Hunters Lodge. Her candle was ensconced in a storm holder of five or six sides, each one an elongated hexagon depicting not the fourteen Sun-Kings, but nobles, merchants, hunters, field workers, soldiers - every type of soul lost to Jiran’s insanity. It rested on a stylized bronze sun like the one that dangled from the Sun-King’s chest, and she took a deep breath as she lit the candle in it.

“I am Talanah Khane Padish, Sunhawk of the Hunters Lodge,” she began in a clear, strong voice. “My father and brother were lost to Jiran’s madness. They protested the Massacre of civilians and hunters of the Lodge, sacrificed their lives to keep the bystanders safe. This is what drove Prince Kadaman to demand an end to Jiran’s butchery, what led to his death.” She swallowed, and her voice was thick when she spoke again. “I do not blame the caution towards, and hatred of, the Carja that the other tribes have. It is, indeed, well-deserved - but I would beg that we all remember that _all_ of us were victims of Jiran’s brutality, and seek solace and camaraderie amongst each other, rather than animosity and more bloodshed. I stand firmly beside Sun-King Avad as he reforms our culture into one of mercy, not harshness, and pledge the protection of the Hunters Lodge to those who would be abused and taken advantage of. I would ask that we all do the same, so that no one else might fall unjustly beneath a sword or machine.”

After she had stepped back, the king took another breath and looked out over the crowd. “There has been enough bloodshed in the name of the Sun. There has been enough division between our tribes. I reiterate my vow, in front of you and the Sun, to ensure that no harm comes to any of our tribes at the hands of the Carja. I thank you for your time - and may the Sun forever guide us, may we be welcomed into All-Mother’s embrace, may the Blue Light encompass us all, may we be remembered in the growth of new things, and may the machine of life ever turn in our favor.” He lit his own candle and set it on the altar. “For my brother, and every other life my father took. Please, offer whatever prayers and offerings you wish.” He bowed to them all, then turned to leave as the priests’ soft chant grew louder. Captain Erend clasped his shoulder with a concerned look, but the king just nodded, and he and his honor guard left. Zia wondered where Prince Itamen was until she saw him dart out and cling tightly to Avad’s hand. Dowager Queen Nasadi was there, as well, and after kneeling to speak with her son, nodded, hugged him, and made her way to the central altar. She was followed by three Vanguardsmen and kept her head lowered as she lit her own candle, not ignoring the other people around her but being ignored by them.

“Do you want to light a candle?” her father murmured.

Zia was already standing. “Of course.”

If she hurried, she could be down there before the queen left. Daradi always said she was a lonely woman. She must have felt horrendously guilty for having been Jiran’s wife, for having to stand at his side while he committed his atrocities, for having been taken to the Citadel at Sunfall, even if she hadn’t wanted to go. She ignored her mother’s call to not run, took up a candle from the pile of them meant for offering prayers, and managed to wiggle her way as close to the queen - on the right of a Vanguardsman - as she could get. She lit her candle and set it down with a soft prayer for those lost, then leaned forward a bit to look at the queen. The Vanguardsman - a Vanguardswoman, actually - shifted just slightly as she did so. It caught the attention of the queen, who glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

Zia gave her a smile and a slight curtsy. “Good day, my queen.”

Queen Nasadi seemed taken aback that anyone was talking to her, much less being friendly. She looked at the Vanguard around her - women, all of them - before inclining her head. “Good day, my lady.”

That had really been the extent of Zia’s idea to be friendly to the queen, and she faltered a bit before perking up. “I’m Zia, daughter of Neurhen. I’ll be at the palace tomorrow night, my queen. Daradi - my friend Daradi - says that you enjoy cards. Perhaps we could play a hand with her?”

Queen Nasadi looked absolutely baffled at the offer, but nodded anyway. “Of course, if possible. Ah, excuse me, Lady Zia. It was good to meet you.”

“And you, as well, your majesty,” Zia told her, stepping back with another curtsey.

There was a soft laugh from behind her after the queen had been escorted off, and she turned to see Daradi standing there, beautiful even in her mourning clothes, a smile on her lips. “Making friends?”

Zia hugged her tightly. “Well, you always say that the queen is lonely, and that you play cards with her sometimes, so I thought …” Worry suddenly knotted her chest. “Was I out of line?”

“Oh, not at all,” Daradi assured her. “Queen Nasadi just isn’t used to people wanting to be near her, much less being friendly with her. I will definitely make sure that we have time for cards tomorrow.” She looked Zia up and down and frowned just a little.

Zia sighed and tried to discreetly adjust the top of her dress. “I know, I know. I told Mama I’ve been eating too many sweets. Oh, but I _must_ tell you about last night at the library.” They linked arms as Zia waved at her father and gestured to Daradi. He nodded and shushed her mother, then the two women walked out of the Sun-Ring.

“Oh? Do tell.”

She laughed and then covered her mouth. Today was a day of mourning, not merriment. “I met a man.”

Daradi looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Really? What’s his name?”

That had Zia faltering a bit as it dawned on her that she hadn’t gotten it. “Oh. Uhm. I forgot to ask …”

Daradi sighed a little and shook her head. “Alright. I have other ways of finding him. And … baking … can cause memory loss at times. So, what does he look like? Was he kind?”

“He’s a soldier,” Zia confessed as they reached the merchant district, “and I think the same rank as Commander Balahn - their armor matches, and the commander seemed to know _of_ him, at least. He’s _very_ handsome, but I think he’s rather shy.” She described the events of the previous night, then sighed. “He wasn’t here today. And I forgot to bring his book for him.”

She got a pat on the hand. “Well, if Balahn knows of him, I’ll find out everything. I ---”

 _“Thief!”_ There was a sudden commotion a few stalls ahead of them, a merchant grabbing the arm of a man on crutches. “Guard! This man is a thief!” The man clearly hadn’t had a decent meal in a while - his cheeks were hollow and his clothing was in tatters as he cowered in front of the fruit merchant.

“Please, my lord, mercy,” he begged. “Mercy, my lord. I have children to feed, my lord.”

The merchant shook him and told him to shut up as two city guards arrived. “What’s the problem, here?” one of them asked.

“I caught this man stealing from me,” the merchant spat as he shook the man. “The law says his hand must be cut off.”

The man - clearly a refugee from Sunfall - started crying as he kept begging for mercy. The guardsman interrupted him. “Did you steal from this man?”

“I did,” he confessed, “but please, I have two children, my lord. I can hardly feed them as I am now. Please, have mercy on me.”

“Traitors don’t deserve mercy,” the merchant snapped.

The guardsmen looked at each other, then conferred for a few moments. “Well, the law _is_ clear on the matter …”

There was a slight movement from underneath the stall, and Zia tilted her head before her eyes went wide with a gasp and she hurried to stand between the man and the guards. “Wait!”

The crowd that had gathered - including some of the priests from the previous night - stopped and turned to look at her. “Get out of the way, girl,” the merchant hissed.

Zia ignored him, instead bending down and holding her hand out. “Come here, sweetness. I won’t hurt you. My lord, how many children do you have?”

The refugee man looked confused that she was calling him ‘my lord,’ and coughed. “Two, my lady. A girl and a boy.”

It was indeed a small girl that huddled beneath the stall, eating an apple as fast as she could as silent tears streamed down her cheeks and she trembled with fear. Zia crouched, though it made her vision swim. “Come out, darling.”

“Another one?” the merchant groaned. “We should kill them all.”

“No!” the man yelled, trying to struggle free. “Haleni, run!”

The little girl tried to, she really did, but the crowd blocked her way. Instead she cowered against the man and held his leg tightly as she sobbed.

 _“Stop it!”_ Zia yelled in frustration. “Let him go! He was just trying to feed his children!”

“That’s what they all say,” the merchant argued. “They’re all liars.”

“Have you no mercy?” she shot back. “These two have clearly not eaten in days.”

“The law is the law,” he pressed. “My lords, don’t you agree?”

The group of priests all nodded. “It is, indeed. The hand of a thief must be cut off.”

She threw her arms out to try to protect the man and his child from the city guard. “No! Please, let me speak with him!”

She got laughed at. “You think to be his lawyer?” one of the priests asked.

Zia raised her chin as a righteous anger burned in her chest. “If I must. He has no one _else_ to speak on his behalf.”

“Oh, Zia,” Daradi murmured.

The priests laughed again, but waved their hands. “Fine. We will see if _your_ knowledge of the law outweighs _ours.”_

There was a small alleyway close by, and Zia gestured for the man and his daughter to come with her. “This way, my lord and lady, please.”

“Please don’t hurt my papa,” the little girl sobbed. A guard followed them, and Zia knelt down to gently touch the girl’s shoulder.

“I won’t let that happen,” she promised. “I’m Zia,” she told the man.

“I’m Pavoson,” he told her, “and this is Haleni. Her brother - Bolak - is probably hiding. He was begging a few streets down.” He choked back tears. “I did, my lady. I broke the law. I tried to steal from that merchant, but Haleni hasn’t eaten in three days, and I couldn’t let her go another without food.”

“What happened to you three?” Zia asked softly as she stood.

He looked down. “My lover was an artisan. He … he went willingly with the Shadow Carja, and I followed. We took Haleni and her brother in at Sunfall, and then he got sick. I did my best to help him, but … They took him, my lady, in the night. I fled with Haleni and her brother the next night, and the kestrels hunted us into a herd of Tramplers, where I broke my leg, and we crawled out of it once the machines had forgotten we were there. The kestrels must have thought we died. We crawled the rest of the way to Brightmarket, then to Meridian.” There were tears in his eyes that pulled at Zia’s heart as Haleni clung to him and shook. “I looked for employment, my lady, truly I did, but no one will hire a refugee, much less a cripple.”

“I see.” Zia sighed as she thought, then nodded. “I think I know a way out of this. Come with me.” She walked slowly so that he could keep up, and cleared her throat once they’d gotten back to the merchant, guards, and priests. Haleni seemed to be about four, and as they walked, a boy a few years older darted out of the crowd to hold Pavoson’s hand tightly. “My lords and ladies,” she began. Daradi had disappeared. “It _is_ true that this man, Lord Pavoson, stole from this merchant - but what he stole was not trinkets or baubles, not petty things,” she said over the crowd’s murmurs, “but food to feed his family with. And it _is_ true that the law states that a thief’s hand must be cut off ---”

“So why are we ---”

 _“However,”_ Zia continued with a glare at the priest who had interrupted her, “the _exact_ wording of the law is to ‘remove that which causes the thief to steal.’ Traditionally, yes, this has been interpreted to mean that a thief’s hand must be removed, as the hand is what _let_ the thief steal, but I would argue that it is not the thief’s hand that _causes_ him to steal, but poverty itself - a lack of food, clothing, and shelter. Lord Pavoson and his children are clearly starving, and no one will help them. We just came from the Day of Mourning, my lords and ladies, where Sun-King Avad himself implored us to be merciful to one another. Would it not be more merciful to spare Lord Pavoson, and perhaps find him a job that he can do to pay for what he took?” She looked out over the crowd, hoping to see someone, _anyone_ sympathetic to her words.

“The Sun is harsh,” one of the priests started.

“And yet also a mercy,” she snapped. “It can weather away the strongest stone and metal, but also nurture life. We no longer live in a time of the sun’s harshness, my lord, but of the sun’s mercy. I feel confident that my interpretation of the law is the correct one.”

“This is ridiculous,” the merchant snarled. “I demand that this man be arrested.”

“How much was taken?” Zia asked. He blinked at her and she held up her bag of shards. “How much was taken?”

He looked over his inventory, then huffed. “Twenty shards’ worth.”

Zia pulled the shards out and nearly threw them at him. “There. Paid for in full. There has been no crime here.” Then she knelt and smiled at Haleni and Bolak before gesturing with her chin towards the stall. “Go. Take what you want. I’ll pay for it. Well?” she asked of the guards as the two children hurried to the stall while the merchant spluttered.

The two men shrugged. “As long as it’s paid for, I don’t see why he needs to be arrested. Just don’t do it again.”

“But the law is clear,” one of the priests insisted.

“Oh, go sweep the desert,” Zia snapped, “and leave these poor people alone. Is there no one here who would employ this man?”

“That’s three hundred shards,” the merchant cut in. Zia turned in surprise - Haleni and Bolak had nearly cleaned him out, clutching two baskets of fruit, bread, and meat to their chests and shivering with fear. The merchant held his hand out with a sneer. “Have you the shards, _my lady?”_

“Ah …” Zia cleared her throat. “I … I have eighty left, but my father will have more, if I could send ---”

“Throw _her_ in jail, too,” the man ordered the guard.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Commander Balahn’s jovial voice broke through the crowd’s rowdy encouragement of Zia’s arrest. The two guards straightened and stepped back in deference to him. “Everyone, just calm down. No one is going to jail. Shut up,” he told the priests and merchant as they broke into vociferous complaints. “I agree with the lady’s interpretation of the law. If you cut this man’s hand off, he’ll only have more of a reason to steal food. Daradi fetched us,” he told Zia. “She’s needed at the palace.”

Zia was confused as to who ‘us’ referred to, until she saw the soldier from the night before standing just behind Balahn. He spit on the ground and huffed a little. “I suppose you want me to chip in to pay.”

“Absolutely,” Balahn told him cheerfully. “My lady, keep your shards; you’ve already paid for what was taken. We’ll cover the rest.”

“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that,” Zia insisted as Balahn and the soldier started to count out their money.

“Too late,” was the pleased reply. Balahn put the shards into his pouch and then handed them to the merchant, who counted them out himself as he glared at Zia. “We even have enough left over to get this man and his family a room for a night or two.”

“Hey!” the soldier protested, then looked at Zia, flushed, and just grumbled and handed the rest of his shards over. “Fine.”

“Avad will give you more, don’t worry.”

“If he has them on him. He’s always begging for money.”

“True,” Balahn mused. “One would think that the king wouldn’t need to borrow shards. Ah, well. He spends them on gifts for Queen Nasadi and sweets for himself and Itamen.” Then he clapped his hands. “So. Lady Daradi’s inn will give us a discount, I think, and Elgana will probably stuff you all full once she sees you. That leaves the problem of employment. What can you do?”

Pavoson looked down, tears of both gratitude and shame in his eyes as he gathered his children to him. “Not much, good sir. I used to design jewelry, but my hands shake so much these days …”

“Probably from the hunger,” he was assured gently.

Zia lit up as she spied a familiar face in the crowd. “Lord Tushek!” The small man groaned and covered his eyes as she hurried over, giving him her most winning smile. “Surely _you_ could use help with your designs? Please?”

“Are you going to give up if I say no?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she told him cheerfully.

He let out a garbled noise of frustration and rolled his eyes up at her, but sighed and nodded. “Fine. Pavoson, you have food and shelter for the next few days - I’ll have a man collect you tomorrow morning to see what you can do after a meal and a night’s rest. Your children will need to stay at the inn, or find some other _legal_ way to occupy themselves.”

“Elgana will absolutely dote on them,” Balahn promised. “So, it’s settled, then.” It was a clear statement, one that brooked no argument, and the merchant and priests lowered their gazes as the crowd dissipated. Balahn beckoned for Zia, Pavoson, and his children to follow him. “See? Following pretty girls around _does_ pay off.”

“We weren’t following pretty girls around!” his friend protested, flushing again as he glanced at Zia. She giggled a little and flushed, herself. He thought she was pretty.

“Oh, we were _absolutely_ following pretty girls around. Don’t argue with me; I outrank you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Bah, go tile the lake floor,” Balahn told him. “Pavoson, if things don’t work out with … Tushek, was it?” Zia nodded. “If things don’t work out with him, I’m certain that Elgana and Borund could use your help at the inn. You don’t mind Oseram, I hope?”

“I don’t mind anyone, at this point,” Pavoson croaked out. “Thank you so much, my lady, my lords. We owe our lives to you.”

“Psh. Avad’s way is the right way,” Balahn said. His friend had dropped back a little to walk beside Zia but hadn’t said anything, and she was too shy to say anything, herself. “Think nothing of it. Elgana!” he bellowed as he opened the door to the inn. “Borund!”

“Not _you_ again,” the burly Oseram woman at the bar laughed. “Here to get drunk under the table again? Who are _they?”_ she suddenly asked, coming around the bar quickly as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, my little cogs, just _look_ at you! What happened?”

“Refugees,” Balahn told her. She nodded with heartfelt understanding. “We’ve some shards for a room for them for a few nights. This is Pavoson; he’ll be working with Lord Tushek for at least tomorrow, but if that doesn’t work out, perhaps you have a spot open for him here?”

Elgana had knelt and pulled Haleni and Bolak to her ample bosom, rocking them and kissing the tops of their heads. “Oh, we’ll find _something_ for him if needed. But come, come, you all need food.” They were bustled to a table as Elgana snapped out orders for toys for the children and more food than the three could possibly eat at once. “Does Daradi know?”

“She will soon enough. So … maybe a discount would be in order? Please?” Balahn leaned against the wall and grinned at Elgana, looking her up and down and wiggling his eyebrows.

She laughed and slapped his arm hard enough that he winced even through his armor. “Oh, you. Fine, but you have to fix the leak in the roof.”

“If my arm isn’t broken,” he complained as he rubbed it. “Damn, woman, you Oseram pack a punch.”

“That was just a love-tap,” her husband laughed as he came up with some toys and knelt, offering them to the children. “Here you go. Your food is on the way. Keep what you have, alright?”

“Th-th-th-thank you, s-s-sir,” Bolak stammered as he took them and split them up between himself and Haleni.

Borund ruffled his hair. “It’s my pleasure, lad.” He looked up. “Will the children stay here, then, while Pavoson is with Tushek?”

Balahn shrugged. “If that’s fine with you.”

“Well ---”

“Absolutely,” Elgana cut him off. He sighed and shrugged. “We’ll keep good care of them, don’t you worry. We won’t let anyone hurt you,” she told the children.

“Excellent! We’ll be on our way, then.” Balahn handed over the rest of the shards and Zia took the time to hug each child and then Pavoson. “I’m sure the lady’s family is wondering where she is.”

They said their goodbyes and left. Balan nudged his friend, who coughed and didn’t quite look at Zia. “That was … you did good.”

She blushed. “Thank you. I just … I don’t like bullies.” That brought another awkward smile to his face, and despite more nudges from Balahn, he was quiet until Zia sighed. “There’s my brother - I have to go. I’m so sorry, but he’ll tell Mama if he sees me with soldiers, and then I’ll be in trouble.”

“It’s not a problem,” Balahn assured her. “We would kiss your hand, but, well …” He bowed instead, then elbowed his friend - who looked startled - into bowing, as well. “We’ll see you at the palace tomorrow, then. We’ll both want dances, of course.”

Zia lit up at the thought of dancing with his friend and nodded. “Of course. Yes. I would love that. Thank you. Ah, goodnight …”

She waved and trotted over to Pep, pinching his side and berating him for being out without their parents. He pinched her back and whined, but she bought him a sweet tart on the way home and he settled down. Her dress had been delivered while they were out, and she held it up to herself in her room and twirled with it, delighted and scandalized that it was such a modern cut. And since Daradi had paid for it, her mother _had_ to let her wear it. She might meet her future husband in it. He would want her then, for sure.

“Mama! Papa! You won’t believe what happened today!” She hugged them both as they all settled in for evening prayers and then recounted the events of the day, leaving out that Daradi had left and she’d been escorted by Balahn and his friend - whose name she had once again forgotten to get. “I _can_ be a lawyer, I _know_ it now,” she gushed over dinner. “You _have_ to let me enroll in the women’s college once it’s running, Papa. You _have_ to.”

“So much for it being a phase,” her father said with a laugh as he reached out and pinched her cheek. “You’ll make a fine lawyer, my dear. Right, Pana?”

“Just marry well,” was her mother’s response. Then she smiled a little and nodded. “I’m … proud of what you did today, Zia. You did very well.”

Zia almost cried at the compliments, and after her evening bath, snuggled under her covers and dared to hope that the shy soldier was the one Daradi had picked out for her as she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we definitely don't know who the handsome soldier is also sORRY FOR NOT UPDATING SOONER


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to PAAAAAAAAAAAR-TAAAAAAAAAAAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this isn't your first read-through, plz go re-read from the beginning because A) I just really want you to re-experience this amazing story, and B) I decided to give Zia vitiligo, and changed the previous chapters to reflect that.
> 
> I also changed "Karala" to "Marala" because "Kasara" and too many K names.

Her mother didn’t like going out on the first day of the Celebrations, so they all stayed in, and sundown couldn’t come fast enough. Zia paced and paced, reading the same two lines in the book the handsome soldier had given her over and over as her concentration faltered even though she’d memorized it as she’d gotten up to vomit time and time again the previous night, and bounced her legs and drummed her fingers on her chair every time she sat. Her mother eventually banished her from weaving in the garden due to how fidgety she was, but her father let her pace in his study as he worked.

“You’re going to exhaust yourself, child,” he finally commented, “and then you won’t be able to dance with very many handsome men tonight.”

“Then I shall sleep over at the palace,” Zia declared in exasperation as she threw her arms out, “where the king will fall madly in love with me and marry me on the spot.”

That had her father roaring with laughter as he leaned back in his chair and slapped his thigh. “Oh, well, in _that_ case, why don’t you run up and down the street a little? _Really_ wear yourself out.”

 _Her,_ a _lady,_ running down the street like a madwoman? Zia scoffed and raised her chin. “I shall do no such thing. I don’t want to be _too_ exhausted for my wedding night.”

 _That_ had her father almost choking with laughter and bending over this time. He finally caught his breath and shook a finger at her. “Whatever books you’re reading, child, do _not_ let your mother find out.”

“Well …” Zia took a breath and flopped into the chair in front of her father’s desk as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I petitioned His Radiance, Father.”

That made both grey-flecked eyebrows go up, and he murmured with curiosity but not - at least not yet - anger.

She nodded decisively. “I did. It’s my right to do so if I please, and I needn’t ask permission from anyone. His Radiance said so.”

Her father’s lips twitched a bit. “I never said otherwise, child. What did you petition him for?”

She took a deep breath as her heart raced. She should have told him sooner. “Well … I want there to be visitation and correspondence rights for prisoners.” That had him blinking in surprise and leaning back in his chair, folding his hands over his ample stomach. He gestured for her to go on in the same respectful way he would gesture for one of his business associates to go on, and it emboldened her. “It was … I cannot describe how terrible it was to be without you for three years, to not be able to so much as get a response from my letters when Mama brought them to you.” The corners of his eyes tightened a bit, but he nodded. Zia cleared her throat and looked up a little to make sure tears didn’t fall. She may have to discuss this with His Radiance, after all - with Warden Janeva, at the very least. She had to learn to keep her composure. “I want … I want every prisoner to be able to write to their families and receive letters in return, as well as to get visits from them. It would, would help with their rehabilitation, and make jail not so lonely or harsh for them _or_ their families.”

“This seems like something His Radiance would approve of,” was the quiet response. Her father’s eyes might have been gleaming a little with tears, as well. He took a deep breath before going on. “And have you had a response? A great many people petition him every day.”

Zia shook her head. “I asked Daradi about it first, and she’s the one who insisted I write up the petition. She said she spoke with His Radiance about it, and he loves the idea and has even brought it up with Warden Janeva. She assured me that it will be implemented, though she doesn’t have a timeframe, clearly - there’s a lot to be worked out in terms of conditions for correspondence and visitations, how often each will happen, the safety of the mail couriers and families as they travel … I made the proposal as specific as I could, so His Radiance needn’t meet with me personally if he doesn’t have to, but Daradi says that I will most likely need to meet with Warden Janeva to … help convince him that this is the right thing to do.”

“Is this what you women do when you’re about on the town, these days?” her father asked, but it was soft and he was smiling when Zia looked at him. “Work on changing the world?”

Zia flushed and ducked her head with a smile. “I guess.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” he murmured, “I should let you out more often.”

“It would be hard to find an escort for how much I want to go out,” Zia sighed.

Her father laughed. “Do you want to know how often your mother and I both snuck out to see each other before we married?” Zia looked up in surprise, and he nodded. “Oh, yes. You hardly get your willfulness from _me,_ Zia. Your grandfather was distraught when he caught her climbing out her window as I waited for her below,” and Zia couldn’t help but laugh at their apparent shared trait, “and demanded immediately that I marry her. She threw a chalice at him and screamed that she was going to marry me anyway, thank you very much, and he couldn’t stop us.” He pursed his lips a little. “I didn’t think it wise at the time to point out that he had just _said_ we were going to get married, and wasn’t _trying_ to stop us.”

Zia tried not to huff at the injustice of it. “That seems hypocritical of her. She was going out alone with you - _sneaking_ out - and I can’t even go out without permission _and_ an escort.”

Her father leaned back in his chair again and sighed. "Your mother is just … When you’re young, Zia, you don’t realize how cold and cruel the world can actually be. And when you get older - especially when you have children of your own - you realize how dangerous the indiscretions of your youth actually were. Any number of things could have happened - we could have been caught by anyone from ruffians to the city guard, her father could have killed me or demanded we duel, and then either of us would have died … he could have sent Pana away, and then I wouldn’t have _you_ to dote on.”

“And Pep,” Zia reminded him.

His eyes pinched a little at the corners again as he nodded. “And Pep, lawless scoundrel that he’s trying to be. But don’t worry about him - he twisted his arm the other day and was crying in Pana’s breast about it. He just … has friends he wants to impress. But you yourself _did_ have a penchant for climbing out your window while I was away.”

He said it lightly, teasingly, with a smile, and that eased Zia’s pang of hurt a bit. She shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I had good reason to - I was running away to bring you back. And Lady Hergisa didn’t like us much, but Sun-Priest Tonireth made her let us stay.”

Neurhen frowned to himself before getting up and walking to a cabinet. “Mm.” He seemed about to say more, then gave a heavy sigh and bowed his head.

Zia watched him with a worried frown. “Papa?”

Her father shook himself a little and came back with a leather folder, taking some parchment from it and reading it over. He was quiet for a while, and when he spoke, it was soft and he didn’t look up. “No parent - no Carja parent,” he corrected himself, “wants their child having sex before marriage - especially their daughters. And however much in denial your mother is about it, you’re twenty-six and have a keen interest in men, and it would be … foolish … to think that you haven’t at least … experimented.”

Zia’s heart had stopped and she was sure that while he didn’t _know_ she was pregnant, he may well _suspect,_ and if he looked up then her face would give it all away in an instant. She coughed and lowered her head while she picked at her nails, hoping he took it as embarrassment and not an admission of guilt.

“In any case,” he went on after another deep sigh, “should you need them, there are … ways of preventing pregnancy. There are the Carja and Nora herbs, of course, but there are also … covers … that men wear … and some that women may also wear.” He must have taken Zia’s noise of embarrassed distress as a questioning one, because he went on. “Married couples also use them, and their use in general is far more common than you may think.” He finally looked up, his face as red as Zia’s must have been, and pointed a finger at her. “This is _not_ permission to have sex, nor is it encouragement. I simply know that I cannot _stop_ you from going to bed with a man if you were determined to do so, and I want you to be as safe as possible _if,_ Sun forbid, you _do._ Daradi may well have access to … well, anything you would need. She’s a very practical woman.”

Well, she wished she’d known _that_ before laying with Thenoran. Zia laughed at the now-clear absurdity of her situation and shook her head. “Thank you, Father. I will … keep that in mind.”

He nodded with a relieved smile and got up to kiss her forehead. “I am … glad. Ah … was there anything else you needed?” He was clearly embarrassed and wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Night to come more quickly,” was her melancholy response.

He hummed a short tune and waved his hands gracefully, then peered out the window and sighed. “Well, it didn't work, so I am afraid we must be patient. But come,” he went on as Zia giggled, “let us look over what the safest routes to Sunstone Rock may be.” He gestured for her to stand and join him at the large tapestry map of the Sundom that hung on the wall behind his desk, picking up a cut glass bowl and taking out white and colored pins in the shape of tiny machines, houses to indicate settlements, skulls with two crossed lines above them for bandit camps, campfires, and short lines to mark routes. Her mother had spent over a year making the tapestry for him in secret; it was probably his most prized possession, aside from his family.

“These are the two most direct routes to Sunstone Rock,” he commented as he marked them - one went through Daradi’s old estate and a village, and one went a more westerly route, on the other side of the river and village. He also marked an offshoot of the more westerly route that crossed the river and _did_ go through the village. “It’s about a nine-hour walk from the top of the Great Elevators on any route,” he told her, “however, these are where we know for sure that certain machines tend to congregate.” He placed the markers carefully - Broadheads, Longlegs, and Bellowbacks along the route through Daradi’s estate, and Striders, Stalkers, and Bellowbacks along the westerly routes.

Zia pursed her lips as she surveyed the map. “Is this the original route?” she asked, tapping the most westerly route. Her father nodded, and she shook her head. He half-turned to her and raised his eyebrows slightly. She tapped the route through Daradi’s estate. “Then this has to be the safest route,” she told him. “The others go right through Stalker territory. But … Isn’t this a bandit camp?”

“It used to be. Now it’s ---” A knock on the door interrupted him and he sighed before looking over his shoulder. “Come in.”

Their servant boy opened the door slightly and bobbed his head in a sort of bow. “My apologies, my lord, but Lord Khulavan is here to see you.”

Neurhen frowned as he turned to his desk and the schedule he kept there, and Zia ducked her head a bit to hide her disappointment at their discussion - their plans - being interrupted. It could always wait. Warden Janeva, His Radiance, and Daradi had surely already come up with the best route, anyway.

“I don’t have him scheduled. Tell him I’m in an important meeting.” Zia and Pelavir both looked at him in surprise, and he waved Pelavir off. “Well, go. I’ll send for him when I’m available, unless this is an emergency or Pana feels like hosting him for an hour or so.”

Pelavir was clearly confused as he looked between Zia and her father, but bobbed another bow. “Ah, yes, my lord. My lady,” he nodded, and Zia nodded back before he closed the door again.

“Well,” her father said briskly, turning back to the map, “as I was saying - this _used_ to be the Blackwing Snag bandit camp, but Aloy of the Nora cleared it out and it’s since been reclaimed. It’s roughly a two hours’ walk from Sunstone Rock.”

Which left a five-hour trek from there to Daradi's estate. “I doubt the prison is equipped to handle visitors,” she commented as nausea rose up a bit and she took a deep breath to keep her lunch down, “but the camp may be able to take them overnight? Has it been rebuilt much, do you know?”

“Mm …” Her father went back to his filing cabinet and rifled through it for a moment. “I’ve received timber orders from them, but not enough to say how much they’ve rebuilt. The warden will know that much better than I. Do you need to use the privy, child?” he asked suddenly as he turned back to Zia, who had been trying to hide that she did, in fact, need to do just that. She blushed and nodded and he jerked his chin toward the door. “Well, go, and then come back.”

She walked as calmly out of the room as possible and then fled to the privy, first voiding her bladder and then puking into it. She sighed as she washed up, and rather than dry her hands, held them against her cheeks and forehead and sighed again at the coolness of them. Then she pat herself dry and hurried back to her father, who gestured for her to join him at the map again.

“So. You believe that the route through Daradi’s estate and Blackwing Snag is the safest one?” Zia hesitated a moment, then nodded decisively. Her father smiled approvingly. “I concur. And how do you suggest the visiting families be housed? I know that that part won’t come for some time, but it’s never too early to plan for it.”

Zia bit her lip as she considered their options. “Well … the camp makes the most sense, if the prison itself can’t house them, even just overnight. I … I would imagine, once the mail route is settled and adequately protected, that if His Radiance approves of this like Daradi says, then I’m certain he would approve assistance with building the housing necessary for visiting families.”

She got a raised eyebrow. “Are you positive about that?”

That gave Zia pause, and her confidence faltered. Her father was watching her calmly, giving no indication of what he was thinking, waiting for her to figure it out herself. She stared at the map. “I …”

“Yes?”

She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as she thought it through. “Well … Daradi is one of His Radiance’s advisors - one of his top advisors, from what I’ve seen and heard. And Commander Balahn knows of my proposal and approves of it, and is a close friend to His Radiance. Assistance with an inn or something would help Blackwing Snag’s - or whatever they’re calling themselves now - economy, and provide better shelter for other travellers. It could also offer employment for both residents of Blackwing Snag and anyone else who could be hired to protect the families. I think it would be in the best interest for the crown to at least _assist_ with building costs.”

“As well as pay for the protection of the families. Have you thought the financial aspect out?”

That had Zia deflating, because she hadn’t, but then she perked up a bit. “No,” she admitted clearly, “however, both Daradi and Commander Balahn say that His Radiance is _very_ excited about this - those were Commander Balahn’s own words - so I feel confident that the financial aspect will be worked out.”

Her father nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re this confident on the words of just two people?”

“Two of the people who know the king best,” Zia countered, “and whose opinions he trusts, and who have no reason to lie about whether or not he likes this idea. They’re two of his closest confidantes. So yes, I _am_ this confident on the words of just two people.”

He watched her for a long moment, then smiled and nodded. “Good. Good. You got your information from secondary sources with strong, reliable ties to the primary source; there is every reason for you to be confident in your analysis due to that.” Zia was flushing with pride and tried to duck her head, but her father placed two gentle fingers below her chin to prevent that. She looked at him with wide eyes. “If you are to be a lawyer,” he told her, “then you must not hesitate in your confidence, nor to take credit for your ideas and how you implement them. Men will walk all over you if you let them, Zia, but they will _also_ underestimate you because you’re a woman. You can use that to your advantage, much as Daradi has.” Then he glanced at the study door. “But don’t tell Pana that I’ve encouraged you to be _more_ like Daradi.”

Zia laughed and hugged him. “Thank you, Father.” If only her mother knew how much she _should_ have been emulating her friend. “Have you any other suggestions for me?”

“Yes,” he said as he sat and took some blank parchment out. “Punch anyone who insults your intelligence.” She squealed a little with laughter, and he gestured for her to sit as he pushed the parchment and a quill over to her. “Also, take notes on _everything_ \- every idea you have, every interaction, small or large, official or not - so you can remind yourself of what went on in case you forget or the other party later presents a different account of events. I know that you have an amazing memory, but it will still help you stay organized. Practice speaking in public - practice _all_ the interactions you may have, and write down what you want to say beforehand and memorize it. I am more than happy to help in that regard. And perhaps most importantly, learn to admit where your knowledge is lacking, so you don’t give bad advice or rulings. Then work to _gain_ that knowledge later.”

This was more help than he’d ever given her in her desire to become a lawyer - aside from hiring Thenoran - and Zia looked at him in awe. “You really think I can do this, Papa?”

He smiled and nodded before tapping the parchment again. “I absolutely do. Besides, Tushek sent me a note saying that if _I_ didn’t fully support you in this, then _he_ would. Do you know how hard it is to impress that man?”

Zia looked up from scribbling notes on what they’d gone over. “Really? Did, did he mention the refugees?”

Neurhen smiled again. “Oh, yes. Apparently the man is good at what he does, albeit still shaky. The Oseram smiths Daradi sent Tushek are trying to figure out a way to stabilize his hands, but Tushek is confident he can keep the man on. You did _very_ well yesterday.”

Zia nodded and looked back down at her notes, trying not to cry. “They just … they didn’t have anyone else to help them,” she whispered.

“Then it’s a very good thing that I let you run wild through the city streets,” she was told good-naturedly, his words probably a near-direct quote from her mother. “Let me read that over when you’re finished.”

They spent the next couple of hours going over her notes and refining them, then doing mock-interviews. Her father wasn’t trying to spare her feelings, but every time she broke down into tears he was there beside her, holding her until she’d calmed and then pointing out where she’d done well and what she could improve on. She was emotionally exhausted by the time there was another knock on the door.

“My lord, my lady,” Pelavir said through it, “Lady Pana says it’s time to get ready. A bath is waiting for you both.”

“Oh!” Zia exclaimed, her energy back with force. She ran to the door and then paused, looking at the hourglass on her father’s desk. “Wait, it’s not nearly ---”

“You’ll understand when you’re married,” her father told her easily as he walked out of his study. “Pelavir, have the map and those notes copied. I want them by tomorrow morning.” Zia was frowning as he walked up the stairs, until she heard her mother squeal and him laugh.

“They’re bathing together, aren’t they,” she asked Palovir flatly.

The boy covered his mouth, but his snort of laughter came through regardless. “I, uh … I wouldn’t know, my lady. I was merely ordered to prepare one bath for them and one for you. What my lord and lady do with that bath is their own business.”

“Mm-hm.” Zia flashed him a smile and followed her maidservant up the stairs to her rooms, where she was washed and perfumed and dressed in the most exquisite green silk gown, edged with gold piping and embroidered heavily with silk thread and beads, all in geometric shapes and the four-rayed sun that symbolized the Sun-God. The V of the top of her gown dipped lower than normal, but her heavy, winged necklace hid all but a small and tantalizing view of her cleavage. The gown included false sleeves of an almost invisible lighter green that were also edged in gold, wrapped shoes in the same color, and a surprisingly lightweight headdress with more - and longer - stylized machine wings. Rather than an intricately-carved piece that covered part of her forehead, there was a small, golden four-rayed Holy Sun that dangled from the headdress. Her lips and eyelids were painted a dark burgundy and the eye makeup marking her a noble was far more intricate than usual. All in all, it actually didn’t show much more than her normal gowns, and her carefully-applied skin color masked her ragged white spots.

Zia stared at herself in the polished copper mirror on her desk, awed at how beautiful she looked. The colors complemented her complexion perfectly, the only reason she could tell that her breasts were larger than usual was because she knew they were, and the gown was subtly large enough that she would probably be a good six months along before it started to show. No wonder Daradi had Marala make all her clothes - the woman was a genius at design and color.

She stared until her mother called her, then hurried down the stairs to the ground floor, where Pana took one look at her and raised both eyebrows as her jaw dropped, shaking her head and pointing back up the stairs.

“Absolutely _not. Where_ did you get that outfit? You change right now, young lady. Is _that_ what you and Daradi were doing when you were going out? Neurhen, tell me you didn’t know about this.”

“Mama!” Zia protested with a stamp of her foot. “This was a present from Daradi! I _have_ to wear it! _Her_ dress matches, too!”

Her mother narrowed her eyes and stepped forward, taking Zia by the arm to forcefully get her back upstairs. “Not one word, Iasia. You’re not wearing that trash out.”

She was in trouble when her mother used her full name. Still, Zia resisted and pouted. “Mama, no. I can’t. Daradi paid for it, Mama. I can’t just _not_ wear it. It isn’t _fair!”_ She looked at her father and almost cried. “Papa, please?” She was whining, she knew it, but _it wasn’t fair._

“Leave her alone, Pana,” he finally spoke up as he adjusted his own, less ornate headdress. “She’ll never get married if you keep her locked up or unfashionable, and I don’t need the hell she’ll raise if we try to arrange her a marriage.”

Her mother was clearly distraught, shaking Zia’s arm even as she stopped trying to push her upstairs. “Neurhen! She looks like, like ---”

“Like any other fashionable young woman these days,” he interrupted her testily. He adjusted Pep’s collar, then gestured sharply. “Come. _Now.”_

It was a clear order, and Pana and Zia both blinked in surprise. By tradition and law he was of course the head of his household and family, and as such his wishes were to be obeyed without fuss or thought; but Neurhen was also an extremely easy-going, docile man who wasn’t prone to abusing - or even really _using_ \- his God-given authority over them all. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually exercised said authority in such a terse manner.

Pana dropped Zia’s arm and lowered her head and gaze. “Yes, my lord husband,” she murmured as she walked forward to take his offered arm.

“Yes, lord father,” Zia murmured as she also lowered her head and gaze and took Pep’s arm.

Neurhen sighed as the servant boy opened the front door for them and they left, joining the steady throng of people either celebrating the Liberation in the streets or heading to this party or that. “Oh, don’t sulk, my loves. You’re neither of you in trouble - but Pana, you need to let Zia grow up. And Zia, neither disrespecting your mother nor throwing temper tantrums will do you any good as a magistrate.”

“Yes, dear,” Pana murmured.

“Yes, Father.” It stung, but what he’d said was true.

He threw her a sudden grin over his shoulder as he dropped Pana’s arm just long enough to pat her rear, causing her to squeak and jump a little. “I spoil you all too much. I honestly should have married you off sooner,” he sighed, turning back to the road, “but I …”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Zia knew full well that she was spoiled, and that she was spoiled because her father was desperately trying to make up for the time he’d lost with her when he’d gone to jail. It was why he spoiled all of them.

They had joined the line of nobles at the bridge to the Palace of the Sun when Tushek found them; rather, his wife saw them and waved. “Lord Neurhen! Pana!”

“Lady Ergoani!” he called back, nodding down at her husband once they were closer. “Tushek, my friend. How are you?”

They shook hands as Tushek looked around him. “Well, thank you. Yourself? Lady Iasia,” he went on before her father could reply, “has he agreed to support your schooling?”

“Likewise,” her father told the air dryly.

“Oh, yes, Lord Tushek,” Zia replied with a curtsy and giggle. “I’m so glad that Pavoson seems to suit your needs. Thank you so much for giving him that chance.”

She got a shrug. “Well. We’ll see.” He kissed her mother’s hand and then her own. “You look amazing - both of you ladies do, of course. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in this style of dress.”

Pana let out a slow breath, but didn’t say anything, and Zia swished her skirt a bit. “I … Ah … Thank you, my lord. It was a gift from Daradi.”

“Finally trying to find her a husband?” he asked Neurhen with a grin.

“Yes, _please,”_ Pep muttered. Zia made a face at him.

Their father sighed. “Not necessarily, but it has to happen sooner or later. I may as well start looking.”

“We’ll certainly keep our eyes out for eligible men,” Ergoani told them, turning from greeting her mother. “Zia, darling, you _do_ look wonderful.” They air-kissed each other’s cheeks, then a rippling murmur from the line ahead of them caused them all to look up.

“You _need_ to relax,” His Radiance was saying tersely as he followed Daradi down the right walkway of the bridge.

Zia peeked around her father as Daradi - her dress slightly different shades of green, but nonetheless matching her own - waved him off. “No, this is important. It won’t take long. I have to check on the ---”

“It’s a celebration!” the king replied, looking radiantly harried in his ceremonial garb. “This isn’t your responsibility, Daradi.”

Daradi stopped short a few nobles ahead of Zia and her family, and His Radiance was following her so closely that he ran into her with an _oof_ as she turned to glare up at him and fling her hands out. “They’re late! They’re not here! I have to find out what’s gone wrong.”

 _“No,”_ the king half-snapped, half-sighed, “you _don’t._ I’ve already sent someone, Daradi. Will you _please_ just go back to the palace and _enjoy_ yourself?”

She had her hands on her hips and continued scowling up at him, and he crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back. “I have to check.” Then she let her head fall back with a groan. “Ugh, and the kitchens are short on geese. _Perfect.”_

“By the Sun, would you just learn to delegate?” The king finally looked around and reached out for her. “Please. You’re supposed to have fun tonight, not work yourself to death.” It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Daradi launched into a detailed list of reasons why she just _had_ to do this and that and the other and generally run everything by herself, with no help from anyone. The king stared impassively down at her before looking toward the end of the bridge. “Balahn?”

“I’ve got her,” the commander replied. Daradi turned in surprise, which let him easily stoop a bit and pick her up, literally throwing her over his shoulder as she nearly screamed and started beating at his back.

“Balahn! Put me down! You’re causing a commotion!”

He laughed. “No, _you’re_ causing a commotion. Calm down, and do what the king says. Where do you want her?” he asked said king, who took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

“Somewhere where she’ll relax and have fun.”

Balahn nodded. His handsome friend was with him and happened to glance backward. His eyes widened when he saw Zia, then he turned sharply to the king. “The bar it is, then,” Balahn said cheerfully.

Daradi was still struggling. “Don’t you dare! Put me down!”

She got a laugh as he bounced her a bit to settle her more over his shoulder and started walking off. “I would, but I have a direct order from the king - and _I_ don’t disobey the king. Hey!” he grunted as Daradi yanked at his hair. “Permission to throw her in the well?” Daradi squealed and kicked some more.

“I am _heavily_ considering it,” His Radiance muttered as he turned and led the three back toward the palace.

There was silence until they were gone, then the line burst into hushed chatter about the scene. Tushek looked up at his wife and sighed. “Fine. I highly doubt His Radiance would let anyone _but_ a lover treat him like that - nor would anyone but a lover be so bold in public. You win.”

Ergoani laughed as she took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, darling.”

Zia was compelled to defend her friend’s honor and shook her head. “Daradi says they aren’t,” she told the couple, “and I believe her.” She got doubtful looks and laughter from everyone around them. “She would never,” she insisted. “She’s just … stubborn.” There was more laughter, and she glared at the lot of them. “Well, it isn’t as if any man here has been willing to do anything but _actively_ make running her businesses more difficult for her, now, is it?”

That had at least some of them coughing and looking away with embarrassment, and her father squeezed her shoulder. “That will do, Zia.”

“You ought to discipline her more,” someone muttered. “Running around, disrespecting the Sun-Priests ---”

“Yes, I’m very proud of her for that,” was Neurhen’s easy interjection. “One might also argue that it was the Sun-Priests being disrespectful in not interpreting the law in a more merciful manner - and right out of the Day of Mourning ceremony, at that.”

“It took stronger, more merciful character than anyone _else_ there had, as well,” Pana spoke up. Zia blinked at her in surprise, but she just kept a pleasant half-smile on her face as she moved forward with the rest of the line.

They were stopped briefly at the end of the bridge in order to be announced. “Lord Neurhen and Lady Pana,” the man called out, “with their children, Lord Ilpep and Lady Iasia.”

No one really paid attention to them, but that was fine. Nobody ever really paid any attention to the announcements. Pep grinned at her. _“I_ got announced before _you.”_

 _“I’m_ the eldest,” she huffed as she pinched him. _“I_ ought to be announced first.” Pep pinched her back and stuck his tongue out.

“It is what it is,” Neurhen told them. “Mind where you are.”

“Zia!”

She turned, her face lighting up. “Elida! Oh, you look so beautiful!”

They hugged and air-kissed, then the younger woman was pulling at her hand. “Come dance! There are _so_ many single men here tonight.”

Zia hesitated and looked at her father, who nodded. “Stand up with any lady you like, but direct all the men to me for permission to dance with you.”

She hugged him tightly. “Thank you so much, Father.”

“Don’t run!” Pana called as she and Elida turned and did just that, laughing as they went.

“You’re so beautiful tonight,” Elida gushed as she turned Zia this way and that, looking her over. “Your mother really let you wear this out?”

“Father made her,” Zia replied. “But you look amazing, as well. Will you find a husband tonight?”

Elida laughed and shrugged. “Maybe. Ooh, a handsome soldier, maybe?”

There was one in particular that Zia was looking for. She giggled. “One with _especially_ shiny armor.”

They passed by one of the bars set up, where Balahn was laughing as he tried to get Daradi to drink something. For her part, Daradi had her arms crossed over her chest and was looking the other direction with her lips pursed, ignoring him. Zia’s heart pitter-pattered, but his friend wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Is that Commander Balahn?” Elida whispered.

Zia nodded. “Oh, yes. He’s very nice.”

“You’ve met him?! Oh, introduce me, please?”

“He’s not looking for a wife, though. He told me.”

“Not until he meets _me,”_ Elida said with confidence, smirking.

“Oh, you.” Zia gave her a gentle shove and they both started laughing, then took each other’s hands to join the dance. “Is that the Nora delegation?” she asked as they spun past a group of men and women with blue face-paint and what probably passed as fancy dress for them - earth-toned leathers and furs covered in machine parts with blue and red accents here and there. “I want to meet Ambassador Teb. And Lady Nakoa. Oh, Daradi said Aloy of the Nora might be here, as well.”

“Well, she isn’t here _yet,”_ Elida sighed, “and yes, those are the Nora. Let’s introduce ourselves!”

Zia pulled her back as she tried to make a determined beeline to the group. “We can’t! Our fathers aren’t here to do it!”

Elida turned and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything, Zia? _We_ would have to introduce our _fathers_ to the Nora. Women are above men, in their culture. Come _on!”_ They pushed at each other until they reached the group, and both curtsied as the Nora looked at them as if they had no idea why anyone would approach them. “Good evening, my ladies, my lords,” Elida said as Zia giggled at the scandalousness of speaking to women before men. “I’m Elida, and this is my friend, Zia.”

“Good evening,” she told them.

The Nora were quiet until one of the women - the one from the previous day, Nakoa - nudged a tall, lanky man in slightly more elaborate garb that was an intricate mixture of Nora and Carja styles forward. His pale cheeks flushed a little. _“You’re_ the ambassador,” she told him.

His smile was shy as he bowed slightly to them. “A pleasure to meet you, my ladies. Ah, this is Nakoa, and Merana, and Varl.”

Varl, whose arms were bare and had biceps that made Zia’s breath catch, waited a moment before nodding to them and placing his hand on the ambassador’s shoulder. “And this, of course, is Teb.”

That had the ambassador flushing more. “Oh, right. I’m Teb.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Elida told them. “Ah, will you be dancing at all?”

She was looking at Varl, who looked at Teb, who reached up to squeeze his hand a bit. “Oh, perhaps later,” he told them. “I do enjoy dancing.”

That had Varl obviously holding back a sigh, and Elida bobbed another curtsy. “Oh, I hope you will. Thank you for your time. Goodbye!” She turned and pulled Zia away, and they laughed as they hurried off. Then Elida heaved a dramatic sigh. “Do you think Teb and Varl are a matched pair?”

Zia nodded. “It looks like it, maybe. Your father wouldn’t let you marry a Nora man, anyway.”

“A girl can dream,” she was told haughtily. “Daradi!” she called as they came upon the woman. “Did you escape the commander? Are the Nora ambassador and Varl a matched pair?”

She got a patient, somewhat exasperated look. “I wasn’t trapped, thank you, your father wouldn’t have any of that nonsense, and Zia, come, I have someone for you to dance with. He’s already asked your father.”

“Hey! Who do you have for _me_ to dance with?” Elida demanded.

Daradi shrugged. “I’m sure there are plenty of men for you to dance with, Elida, but I was sent to find Zia. We’ll see you later.”

“That’s not fair!” the younger woman called as they walked off arm-in-arm and Zia’s heart started pounding. Daradi clearly meant for her to dance with someone who might be her future husband.

“Oh, to be young and foolish again,” Daradi sighed.

“You’re still young,” Zia protested. “You’re only twenty-eight.”

“Says the woman who claims she’s old at twenty-six,” was Daradi’s amused reply.

“Well, _you_ don’t need a husband, so _you_ can stay younger for longer.”

Her reasoning got a laugh, and then Daradi was introducing Zia to a young blond noble. She lost track of the men she danced with after that, smiling and making small-talk, Daradi collecting her after every dance and delicately asking how Zia had liked them with a literal list in hand, making small notes and crossing some names off.

“Are you working?” the king’s voice suddenly said from behind them, and they both jumped. “Is she working?” he asked Zia when they turned around.

Zia dropped into a deep curtsy and hesitated. “Ah, Your Radiance, I, uhm ---”

Daradi sighed and pulled her up. “No,” she told the king shortly. He narrowed his eyes and looked them both over, trying to decide if he was being lied to or not. “This is my friend, Lady Iasia.”

Zia offered her hand shyly, and the king took it and kissed the back of it, frowning a little as he thought. “My lady. It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Your Radiance,” she managed to get out. He was _so_ handsome. No wonder Daradi liked him so much.

He was still frowning a little, and then a dark-skinned man with grey hair appeared beside him. “Lady Iasia is the one who petitioned for letters and family visitations for prisoners, Your Radiance.”

That had the king snapping with a broad smile. Zia felt faint at the sight of it - or it was just her child acting up again. “Ah! Zia! My apologies, I hadn’t put the names together. Daradi speaks highly of you, and I’m very eager to discuss your petition.” He looked around. “Where is your family? We ought to be introduced.”

“On their way, Your Radiance,” his advisor told him.

“I hardly know what I would do without you, Marad.” It wasn’t long before her parents were led to them, and the king was smiling broadly again as he shook her father’s hand and kissed her mother’s. “Lord Neurhen, Lady Pana. A pleasure to meet you. But don’t you have a son, as well?”

“Somewhere,” her father said ruefully. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Radiance.”

“Likewi- Don’t you sneak off,” he suddenly said. Daradi sighed and stopped trying to inch away. “You’re here to have fun, not work.”

“I have something to attend to.”

“Like what?” she was asked, and she just blinked at him slowly as she held her hands in front of her and smiled pleasantly.

“Well, that’s none of your business, now, is it, Your Radiance?”

She got a hard stare, then the king relaxed and nodded. “Ah. That. Yes, of course - go on. But no other work!” he called as she turned and walked quickly away. Then he turned back to Zia and her family. “My apologies for that. She works far too much.” They were served some pomegranate wine as the king smiled again. “My lord and lady, your daughter’s proposal is brilliant. I’m eager to have it implemented, as soon as we can convince Janeva to accept it. I mean, he will accept it whether he likes it or not, but it will be much easier if he accepts it on his own.”

Her father’s chest puffed out with pride, and even her mother was looking a bit proud. “Iasia is a compassionate woman, Your Radiance. I’m very proud of her.”

“And well you should be,” the king told him. “Ah, my day is full tomorrow - chasing Daradi around and making sure she’s not working, and all.” He seemed more amused by it than irritated, though. “But perhaps you could come early the day after? I want to get this started as soon as possible. Mournful Namman would like to speak with Lady Iasia about yesterday, as well. Oh, you’re not in trouble, not by far,” he told her when she froze and her eyes went wide. “Daradi says you’re interested in becoming a magistrate - you’ll be applying to her college when she finally lets me help her secure a building for it?”

“I can hear everything you say about me,” Daradi commented as she walked past.

“Stop giving me reason to say it, then,” the king called after her.

“Of course she will be, Your Radiance,” Neurhen said when the king turned to them again. “If _I_ don’t let her, Lord Tushek has threatened to do it.”

“Yes, I’ve heard her performance yesterday was _quite_ impressive,” the king said with amusement. “From several sources. Constantly.”

“Ah, Lady Zia!” Balahn said cheerfully as he ambled up with a mug of beer in one hand. “And Lord Neurhen and Lady Pana, of course. Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?”

“Yes,” His Radiance said with a slight roll of his eyes before looking around. “Where did he go?”

Balahn downed his beer and laughed. “Ran away like the coward he is.” He turned to Neurhen and gave a short bow. “If I may have the honor of a dance with your daughter, my lord? Avad, Daradi’s talking about the geese again. She went that way.”

He pointed and the king nodded. “Do let me know if you need assistance with Lady Iasia’s tuition, Lord Neurhen - you, I think, would be more open to my help than others we know.” Then he said goodbye before hurrying off, and Balahn turned back to Zia’s father and grinned as he raised his eyebrows.

“If Zia consen-”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then covered her mouth and blushed when her parents and Balahn looked at her. She coughed and lowered her head a bit. “I mean, it would be my pleasure, Commander.”

“Well, be off, then,” her father told them.

“Thank you!” Zia called as Balahn led her back to the dance floor and placed a gentle hand on her hip, swinging her into the crowd of dancers.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she gushed. “His Radiance is amazing.”

“That he is,” the commander agreed before twirling her.

“But where’s your friend?” Zia asked when they were facing each other again.

Balahn raised his eyebrows. “My friend?” Then he nodded. “Ah, my cousin. He’s …” He peered around as they moved across the dance floor, then shrugged. “Hiding, probably.” She got a conspiratorial wink. “He’s not used to pretty ladies talking to him.”

Zia blinked in surprise. “Oh, he’s your cousin?”

The commander nodded. “A few years younger than me. He’s shy.”

“Yes, I got that impression. He seems very nice, though.”

“And handsome?” Balahn asked with a grin.

She blushed and nodded. “Yes, he’s very handsome.”

“I’ll tell him that. Might get him to introduce himself.”

“Why can’t _you_ tell me his name?” she asked. “I keep forgetting to ask.”

Balahn laughed. “Well, my lady, that’s something that he’ll need to give you himself. He needs to learn how to talk to the ladies without help.”

“That’s not very nice of you,” she told him with a pout.

“He’ll get over it. Trial by fire, I say. So, you’re going to meet with Avad soon?”

That had Zia’s stomach flipping and her heart pounding with nervousness. “Oh, yes. His Radiance wants to meet with us the day after tomorrow.” On second thought, the stomach flipping was definitely her baby. She swallowed against a bit of nausea.

“Nervous?” Balahn asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A little,” she confessed. “I just … I’ll have to meet with Warden Janeva, as well, and I know he doesn’t like my proposal.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find he’ll be more open to it than he’s let on,” she was assured confidently, if a little cryptically.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of dancing, eating, and sneaking off to use the privy several times. She didn’t get a dance with the king, but he appeared to be avoiding all the single women except for Daradi - though he danced with all his other advisors, too, so it wasn’t that odd. Zia thought he just didn’t want to have every eligible woman in the Sundom thrown at him, and she didn’t blame him. She danced with Balahn several times and saw his cousin a few times, but was never able to actually go up and speak with him. He looked down and turned away whenever their eyes met, and if not for Balahn’s comments, she would have thought he didn’t like her.

She was out of breath by the time Daradi showed up and pulled her off the dance floor. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” she giggled. Maybe to meet Balahn’s cousin.

“Your father knows where you’ll be. Come - you offered to play cards with Lady Nasadi, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

Zia almost asked why the dowager queen wasn’t at the party, but instead nodded. If the previous day was anything to go by, her presence would be largely unwelcome. She was led into the palace proper and down a few flights of stairs, then into a small garden where there was a table and chairs set up. Queen Nasadi was in one and Prince Itamen was in another, leaving two empty ones. Daradi smiled as they sat down.

“My apologies for taking so long, Nasadi. Itie, are you sure you’re awake enough?” The little prince was rubbing his eyes, but nodded. “Good. You’ve both met my friend Zia, then?”

Itamen nodded quietly and Queen Nasadi smiled just a little. “Yes. Thank you for your offer, Lady Iasia. It was … very kind of you.”

Zia shrugged. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m not very good at cards, but I’m happy to spend time with you all.”

The queen smiled a little more, looking down at the deck she was shuffling. “Are you better at them than Avad?”

Zia frowned a little, but Daradi just laughed. “His Radiance can’t keep a straight face when playing cards for the life of him,” she told Zia, “and doesn’t realize it. And yes,” she told the queen, “she is _much_ better at them than His Radiance.”

“He likes it when you call him Avad.”

“Which gives the appearance of favoritism that I can’t afford to give.”

The way they spoke made it seem like an old argument now performed out of sheer habit, and Zia discreetly watched the queen while they played. She, at least, could keep a pleasant half-smile through the entire game - probably from years of having to pretend she wasn’t horrified by the Red Raids.

The music drifted down to them, and Zia finally spoke up. “Have you not danced, Your Radiance?”

Queen Nasadi looked up with a blink, then nodded, carefully arranging her cards before picking one up and discarding another. “Avad and Balahn come down once in a while to check in on us. It is … We’re not welcome, up there.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Zia huffed. She got politely raised eyebrows. “Nothing that happened was _your_ fault. You didn’t _want_ to leave Meridian. They’re all just …” She waved her hand in disgust. “Rude. They’re all just _rude._ It’s not fair.”

“Zia has a very keenly-honed sense of fairness,” Daradi laughed.

Queen Nasadi was looking down again, and perhaps her eyes shone a bit with tears, or perhaps it was just the lighting. “It is … much appreciated, Lady Iasia. Thank you.”

“Oh, please, just call me Zia. My full name is too stuffy,” Zia said, waving her hand again. “I’m not an ‘Iasia.’ I’m a ‘Zia.’ Just that.” Then she tilted her head and perked up. “Oh, I love this song. My lady, would you like to …?” She was holding her hand out to the queen, smiling brightly.

Queen Nasadi looked taken aback, then ducked her head and nodded as she stood, Zia following suit, and took Zia’s hand. “Ah … I would, thank you. Would you care to lead?”

Zia giggled and nodded, placing one hand on the queen’s hip. “Of course.”

They spun around the gardens until the fast-paced, upbeat song was done, then collapsed in their chairs with laughter from Zia and perhaps a soft chuckle from the queen. Zia was about to ask for another dance when the king spoke up.

“Well, I see my job _here_ is _also_ being taken care of.” He was smiling when everyone looked up, Zia a bit in alarm, and sat in a chair he pulled from another table. “Would you care for another dance, Nasadi, or are you fine for right now?”

“I would like that,” the queen murmured, and Zia watched as they spun around the garden, heads together as they talked and sometimes even laughed.

“They act like siblings,” she commented.

Daradi looked up, then at the pair, and nodded. “They practically are. Nasadi’s only a year older than His Radiance.”

Which meant … Zia shuddered. “Jiran was old enough to be her father.”

“Mm-hm. Which is why, no matter what _you_ think of women having a say in their husbands, it’s important to start changing that. The king is, of course, above everyone, but if our entire cultural attitude towards age differences changed, kings - especially ones raised in the new culture - would naturally follow suit. No one should be forced to endure a partner so much older than them if they didn’t want to.”

“Not _all_ men do that. Papa ---”

“But too many _do,”_ Daradi interrupted. “The men who don’t marry significantly younger than themselves don’t cancel out those who do, Zia. _Your_ father - _my_ father - wouldn’t entertain the notion, but I don’t want even _one_ woman - or, less frequently, man - to be forced into a marriage with someone old enough to be their parent.”

Zia looked down and shrugged. “Well, I guess you’re right.”

“But when isn’t she?” was the king’s somewhat-breathless question as he and Nasadi sat back down.

Daradi shrugged and kept her head lowered, focusing on her cards as Nasadi dealt them again, but she and the king were both smiling in ways that cemented Zia’s suspicion that they both liked each other. She didn’t say anything - both would likely deny it - just filed it away for future perusal.

It was a while before Nasadi and Prince Itamen pled exhaustion, and Zia got an unexpected hug from the queen and a quiet thank-you before she gathered her sleepy son and was escorted off. Daradi took her back to the celebrations after the king himself also thanked her, and she had to be pulled off the dance floor by her father, who waved off the young man who came up to him to ask for a dance. She only complained a little, because between the dancing and her baby, she was exhausted, and leaned on her father as they walked home.

“Did you have fun?” he asked as he helped her up the stairs and to her rooms.

“The most,” she yawned. She got a chuckle and a kiss on her forehead before he handed her off to her maidservant to get ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering how daradi got to be such a bad-ass, FEAR NOT, for i have that story forthcoming


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namman is best Sun-Priest and you can fight me on that. Zia and her mystery-soldier-who-we-definitely-don't-know-the-identity-of finally actually meet.

It was mid-morning before she woke up, and that only due to the need to urinate. Still, Zia looked at her sundial before yelling, scrambling out of bed on her hands and knees, and throwing her wardrobe open in a panic to find the most fashionable dress she had. She had half of it tossed around her room before her father knocked on her door.

“What’s wrong, girl?”

“We’re going to be late!” she hollered.

He opened her door and leaned in the doorway, calmly watching her toss more clothes around. “To what?”

Zia whirled around and flapped her hands in a panic, not knowing how he could be so _calm._ “To - to everything! Look at the time! There are plays, and merchants, and parties! We have to hurry! Ugh, why is everything I have so _old?”_ She tossed her last dress away and flung herself back onto her bed, bursting into sobs as she curled onto her side. “I’m not _fashionable,_ Papa,” she wailed. “No one will marry me if I don’t _look nice._ Mama just wants me to die an old spinster.”

That had her father laughing as he stepped into her room and over her clothes, holding two parchment-wrapped parcels. The top one had a silk bow on it, and Zia just glared at them and huffed with tears when he set them next to her.

“Oh, I doubt that. The bottom one came for you today, from Daradi, but the top one is from me.”

“I don’t _care,”_ she cried as hot tears continued to fall from the corners of her eyes. “My clothes are ugly and no one will ever love me because of them. I’ll die old and ugly and alone.”

“Well, _now_ you’re just being hysterical on purpose,” he told her. “But since you’re so convinced, I’ll send these back.”

She scrambled to sit up as he reached for her presents, nearly throwing herself over them. “No! I want them, Papa. Don’t take them.”

“As you wish.” She stared up at him with quivering lips and a tear-streaked, red-eyed face, then he gestured to the top box impatiently. “Well? Open it. I think you’ll like it.”

It was bigger than the box from Daradi. Zia pulled the bow off and tore the parchment away, then slid the thin wood top off and nearly screamed at the sight of the gorgeous, modern dress that lay in it. She pulled it out to look and squealed again at the dress that was under it.

_“Papa!_ You _didn’t!_ Oh, by the Sun!” She threw herself off of her bed and into her father’s arms as he laughed, her tears ones of joy this time. “Oh, Papa, thank you! They’re beautiful!” She picked up the first dress and held it up to herself, twirling with laughter. “Which one will I wear first?!”

“Whichever you like, my love. I’m glad you like them. The jewelry is downstairs, made specially by Tushek.”

Balahn’s cousin would fall in love with her for sure, in dresses like these. Any man would. Zia wiped at her face and sniffled some more as she tried to stop crying. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you so much. But Mama ---”

“Has no say in it,” her father told her gently, and took her into his arms again. “But I did show her when they were delivered, and she agrees that you’ll look beautiful in them. Ah … If Marala seems a bit put-out the next time you see her, do pass on my apologies. I had to wait until you’d started your fittings with Daradi to place the order.”

She couldn’t seem to stop crying, blubbering through another thank-you before she was ushered off to bathe, where she cried some more. She’d mostly gotten herself under control by the time she’d been dressed, and then took a handkerchief from her maidservant to dab the corners of her eyes with so she didn’t ruin her makeup. The armbands, necklace, and headdress that Tushek had gifted her were absolutely gorgeous, and she ate her late breakfast as quickly as she could.

“What are we doing first today?” she asked through her maize bread.

“Teaching you some manners,” her mother told her. She sat up straighter and tried to eat more delicately after murmuring an apology. Pana just shook her head. “You look lovely, dear.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Just … be careful around men,” she continued. Zia raised her eyebrows. “They … well. They’re not all as honorable as your father.”

“I will, Mama, I promise. I won’t go off alone with a man, and I’ll stay in sight of the city guards or Vanguard - no matter _how_ handsome he may be.” She didn’t know why her mother seemed so sad - it was probably what her father had said last night, about letting her grow up.

“Even if he’s the king?” her father teased.

“Oh, I would _absolutely_ go off alone with the king, but I don’t want Daradi to get jealous. Besides,” she went on over her mother nearly choking on her chilled juice, “I think he’d much rather go off alone with _her.”_ That got her raised eyebrows, and she looked at her parents with wide eyes. “What? They may not be lovers, but I think it’s clear that they like each other. Daradi’s just so paranoid about his alleged ‘favoritism’ that she won’t do anything about it. And His Radiance … well, I don’t know about him. Maybe he’s shy?”

Her mother dabbed her lips and pushed her plate away. “Enough gossip. We need to get going. I believe we’re seeing a play, first.” She listed off their activities for the day, ending with the party at the palace. “Where you will no doubt be swarmed by young men again,” she added dryly.

“Oh, you’re just jealous that no one but me asked _you_ to dance last night,” Neurhen laughed as he stood. “But come, go get touched up and we’ll be on our way.”

They sat on the veranda and let the maid reapply their lipstick, then Zia took her mother’s hand and held it as they left the house. Her mother looked surprised. Zia smiled at her. “Thank you, Mama. For the dresses.”

Pana looked away, but squeezed her hand in return. “Your father bought them. I had no say in it.”

She was going to have to leave her family within the month. Zia’s chest tightened and her eyes stung with tears once again. “I love you, Mama.”

Her mother turned to her, giving her a concerned look. “Child, what’s wrong?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “I just … I’m just a spoiled brat who doesn’t appreciate you enough.”

Pana sighed and squeezed her hand again. “You _are_ spoiled,” she agreed, “and you _are_ sometimes a brat, but … I have been hard on you. My little girl is growing up and will likely be married soon, and … it’s difficult.”

“Well,” Zia mused, “perhaps dying an old maid wouldn’t be _too_ terrible, if I was able to care for you and Papa when you’re old.”

That had her parents both laughing, and her mother shook her head. “Don’t stop your life for us, Zia. We’ll be here for you no matter what.”

She almost spilled her secret then and there, desperate to have her parents still love her and accept her after what she’d let happen, to be excited about their grandchild, but she bit her lip and nodded instead. She’d grabbed her makeup right before leaving the house, which had been a good idea - the play was about the Liberation and included Captain Ersa’s death, and she cried all the way through it. After that they slipped in and out of parties, greeting old friends and making new ones, with more than one man - young and old both - taking a second and sometimes third look at her. She’d never had so much attention from men before, but her father was always there, approving or disapproving of dance partners at his somewhat-overwhelmed leisure. He always denied the older men - the ones with gray in their hair - and Zia was glad that Balahn’s cousin didn’t seem to be that old, and realized that even if Thenoran _had_ made good on his promise to ask for her hand, her father most likely would have denied him due to the age difference alone.

“I have _completely_ rethought letting you wear this,” he finally exclaimed after sending away yet another man. He was gesturing to her dress and rubbing his temples. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Her mother, by his side, covered a smug smile. Zia rolled her eyes and tugged at his hand. “Come on, we’ll be late to the palace.”

“No, no,” he muttered as he nevertheless let her pull him out of the party, “I haven’t the fortitude.”

_“Papa,”_ she huffed, “we were _invited.”_

“As if one simply _shows up_ to the palace.”

They stopped at home to change into their evening clothes, and Zia twirled in the second dress - an ombre that went from the palest green at the top to the darkest at the bottom, the embroidery standing out in gold - that Daradi had sent. She had honestly just expected one dress from her friend, and wondered if there would be a third the next day. Well, she decided, even if she only got two, Balahn’s cousin was sure to love her either way.

Almost as soon as they got in line to enter the palace, a city guard walked up to them. “Lady Iasia?” she asked, and Zia blinked a bit and tilted her head in surprise before nodding. “Excellent. Come on, you’re needed. All of you,” the woman added before turning and walking up the side of the bridge.

Neurhen shrugged and led the way. “Ah, forgive me … You are …?”

The woman looked over her shoulder and grinned under her helmet. “Merla. Lady Kasara’s match. I’ve been waiting for you.” They were led to the front of the line, where once again the king - this time with Captain Erend beside him - was standing in front of Daradi and blocking her from leaving the palace. A Sun-Priest was with them, and the king was silent and unmovable as Daradi nearly begged him to let her check on one thing or another. “Your Radiance, Lady Iasia and her family.”

That made him turn with a smile. “Ah, good, you’re here. My lords; my ladies.” He bowed over their hands and kissed them all, too distracted to notice. “Lady Iasia, this is High Priest Namman. He would like to speak with you - _with_ Daradi, of course,” and she was just bursting with the effort to not make more of a scene, “about the day before yesterday. After,” he told Daradi, “you’re to dance with Lady Iasia and _have fun.”_

“I _am_ having fun,” she protested.

“No, you’re working.”

“Working _is_ fun.” The king just raised an eyebrow and pointed to Zia and Mournful Namman - wearing the robes of a regular Sun-Priest rather than what befitted the High Priest - and Daradi sighed as her shoulders fell. “As you wish, Your Radiance.”

“One for the history books,” the king laughed. “She finally does what I want her to do.”

Erend snorted. “She’s gonna kick you once you’re alone.”

“Which is why I have you to protect me,” the king responded cheerfully. “Have your meeting, then have fun, and then I _might_ let you help clean up. Come,” he told the captain. “Where did Janeva go?” he asked as they walked off.

“Beats me. He’s been acting real weird lately.”

The king’s reply was lost as they moved further into the crowd of revellers, and Zia turned to Mournful Namman with a curtsy and lowered head. “High Priest ---”

He waved for her to straighten and smiled. “Please, ‘Namman’ is just fine. I dislike formalities towards myself. They don’t suit me.” He turned to the rest of her family and bowed. “My lords and lady, if I may have a moment of Lady Iasia’s time? Daradi will be with us, but of course you’re welcome to attend. Your daughter is not in any sort of trouble.”

Pep let out a muffled groan, and Neurhen and Pana looked at each other before leaning in to one another to converse. After a moment or so they turned back, and Neurhen bowed. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I would like to accompany you.”

“Of course,” Namman agreed with a nod. “This way, please.”

“Go,” Neurhen murmured to Pana and Pep.

They nodded and walked into the crowd, and then Zia and her father were led into one of the palace towers and a small meeting room, where they were sat at a round table and Namman smiled while clasping his hands together.

“So, Lady Iasia. I hear that you _quite_ upset some of my priests after the Day of Mourning ceremony. They were rather miffed at Commander Balahn overriding their authority, as well, but _you_ were their chief complaint. Would you care to tell me what happened?”

She wasn’t in trouble, Zia reminded herself. Mournful Namman was known to be a good and honorable man, one who fully agreed with His Radiance’s ideas of equality amongst the genders and tribes. She cleared her throat and fought to keep her chin raised and her eyes focused over his left shoulder.

“Well … Daradi and I had just left the ceremony together - with my father’s permission - and as we were entering the market, a merchant caught a man stealing food,” and she emphasized the word just a bit, “and was demanding he be arrested and have his hand cut off, as that law has been commonly interpreted as commanding.”

She must have said it a bit more derisively than she’d meant to, because Namman smiled just a bit, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before he nodded for her to go on.

“The man - Pavoson, a refugee from Sunfall - he clearly hadn’t eaten a decent meal in some time, and was on crutches. And he said he had children to feed, who also hadn’t eaten. I just ---” Here she faltered, her throat tightening and eyes starting to tear up. “He was clearly starving, High - my lord Namman. I couldn’t let them hurt him. And … and then I saw Pavoson’s little girl, hiding under the merchant’s table. She was terrified. She was so scared …” Zia cleared her throat and took her handkerchief out to dab at her eyes. “I told them all to stop, that he was taking food because he was hungry, but the priests sided with the merchant, and the guards … well, their job isn’t to interpret the law. They agreed with the priests. I tried telling them that he just wanted to feed his family - and that they should be merciful. The, the priests laughed at me, my lord, and asked if I was to be his lawyer.”

“And no one stepped in to support you?”

She shook her head. “No, my lord. Daradi went and fetched Commander Balahn and his cousin, but I think they must have gotten there after I’d spoken with Pavoson in private. I told them that, that the law _actually_ says to ‘remove that which causes the thief to steal,’ and that it made more sense - and was more merciful - to interpret it as not removing the thief’s hand, but removing the conditions under which he felt compelled to steal; in this case, Pavoson’s poverty and desperation to feed his children were what caused him to steal, so the more merciful ruling would be to give them food, clothing, shelter, and employment. Pavoson had said that he followed his lover to Sunfall, where they took in both children, but his lover got sick and was taken in the night. They fled the next night, were chased into a herd of Tramplers, and he broke his leg and they had to crawl to Meridian - where no one would employ a crippled Sunfall refugee.” Her face screwed up with anger, and she couldn’t smooth it out.

Namman nodded. “I see. Go on.”

“The merchant and priests disagreed, and then I paid for the food myself. Pavoson’s boy had joined us, and I told him and his sister to take what they wanted, and that I would pay for it.”

That got a raised eyebrow and faint smile. “And were you able to?”

Zia flushed and _did_ look down, this time. “Ah … no. I hadn’t the shards, my lord. I tried to tell them that my father could pay, to have him sent for, but the merchant wanted _me_ arrested, then. Commander Balahn and his cousin had arrived by that time, and stopped it. They … they were kind enough to pay for the food, and Balahn said he agreed with me and wouldn’t let them arrest any of us. We ended up taking them to Daradi’s inn, but before we left, I was able to get Lord Tushek to at least give him employment for a day - Pavoson used to design jewelry, you see. And … and then we left.”

“Which is essentially the same story I’ve gotten from all of you - though to hear my priests tell it, I was honestly expecting you to be possessed by a demon.” Namman sounded nothing but amused by that, though. “And were there any other interactions between you and the priests?”

Zia took a deep breath, looked up, and nodded. “Yes, the day before. Commander Balahn had accompanied me to the library, and I was looking for some texts in the legal section. The priests from yesterday were blocking my access to the reference cabinet, so I asked them to please move. They weren’t going to let me look until Commander Balahn made them, because they didn’t think a woman should be reading legal texts. Then … then I had to use the privy after a while, and when I came back, they were at my table and had thrown my texts and notes around. I asked them for my seat back, because I had been there first, and they said I hadn’t been. I told them my notes were right there to prove it, and they laughed at what I was looking for and asked if I was trying to get more money from my father when he died.”

“What _were_ you looking for?”

She almost groaned. “Well …” Oh, to hell with it. “Eloquent Tatavid had written about women’s inheritance rights at one point, and I had come across a text previously that cited his opinion and wanted to read it myself. They implied I was looking for his ... his _other_ texts, and asked what my father would think.”

“And what _would_ you think, Lord Neurhen, if you learned that your daughter was reading Eloquent Tatavid’s _Treatise on the Tender Arts?”_

Her father just huffed with amusement. “She’s twenty-six - I would be surprised if she were reading them for the first time. But I imagine she probably has at least a _few_ pages hidden away in her rooms.” Zia tried to look innocent, but her blush betrayed her and he just chuckled and shook his head.

Namman didn’t chuckle, but he _did_ cough a bit and raise his hand to cover his mouth. “And then, my lady?”

She might fudge the truth with her parents, but she _couldn’t_ lie to a priest, much less Mournful Namman - he had been the one the king had summoned to bless Kasara’s child, and was the one priest all the women trusted. “Commander Balahn’s cousin was at the table as well, while the commander browsed. He - the commander’s cousin - made them leave. He, ah … he may have threatened to punch one of them if they didn’t. But he told me he hadn’t really meant it,” she hurried on when eyebrows all around the table went up, not wanting him to get into trouble, “and that he just didn’t like bullies. He wasn’t _really_ going to hurt them, I promise.”

Namman raised his hand to quiet her, nodding. “Once again, that matches up with all other accounts - minus your _unfathomable_ amounts of disrespect and outright demonic possession.” He _was_ laughing, at that point, leaning back in his chair before crossing his hands over his stomach. “And what _do_ you think of Eloquent Tatavid’s opinion on women’s inheritance rights, my lady?”

Zia picked her words carefully. “I believe that, at the time, it was a … very bold stance to take. He was right that women have always worked, and not all of them have had families or husbands to care for them, but I think that believing that women should inherit as much as men was … ahead of his time. _Too_ ahead. It may well work _now,_ with His Radiance as king,” she went on, “but certainly not during Eloquent Tatavid’s era.”

“And do you feel his opinion is correct?”

She sighed and took a moment to think about it, frowning down at the table a little before looking up at Daradi. “It … I … I feel that women should be under the authority of their fathers or husbands as a matter of nature. However, one _cannot_ ignore the fact that women _have_ always worked in some form or another, either because they were poor, or because they had no husband or family to support them - and some because they were matched pairs or just wanted to work. I believe that our inheritance laws do those women a disservice, and while I myself have no issue with being under the care of my father - and then husband - and not working outside the home, more and more women _are_ working these days, _are_ on their own, and _aren’t_ relying - or wanting to rely - on their family or men to support them. I believe Daradi has turned down many proposals, as well as the care of her cousin.”

Namman inclined his head. “Yes, His Radiance was quite irate that _he_ had to put a stop to those - the drawback of declaring _himself_ her guardian.” Daradi smiled a little at that.

Zia ducked her head with her own smile before continuing. “Some women are also turned out by their families or left by their husbands, who take everything and leave them destitute. I’m not sure that inheriting as much as their brothers or other male family members would be appropriate, but I also feel that _some_ sort of inheritance, or part of the dowry being paid to the woman in case her husband leaves her, should be had, if only to give women something to fall back on if their support is taken away.”

Namman hummed a little. “You say you’re fine with not working outside the home, but you _do_ want to work - you want to be a magistrate.”

She shrugged. “If my husband permits it. If not, well … just learning will have to be enough. If he permits it.”

She didn’t like that thought. She _really_ didn’t like that thought. Namman simply snorted a bit as one corner of his mouth twitched up. “While your father will, of course, choose the husband he feels will be best for you, my suggestion is that if you are so intent on learning the law and being a magistrate that you would stand up to Sun-Priests more than once, and challenge them on their knowledge and interpretation of the law, then he would do well to choose a husband who will support you in your ambitions.”

To have such a recommendation from anyone - much less a Sun-Priest, much less the _High Priest_ \- was overwhelming, and Zia couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she tried to choke out some form of gratitude. She hated that she was so emotional, and knew that only part of it could be attributed to her pregnancy. She had to toughen up if she really _was_ to be a magistrate.

Everyone was politely ignoring her tears, though, except for her father handing her a handkerchief and squeezing her hand before speaking. “A recommendation I will take into heavy consideration, my lord. Besides, she will no doubt cry if I don’t, and as I am a man of little backbone when it comes to my daughter, making her cry is the _last_ thing I wish to do.”

“Well, she needn't cry about my priests,” Namman told him. “I have long believed, personally, that Lady Iasia’s interpretation of that law is correct - and it is certainly far more in line with His Radiance’s, and thus the Sun’s, wishes as well. However, I _did_ promise my priests a _thorough_ investigation - and exorcism, if needed - into these incidents, so here we are. But I believe that this wraps everything up.” He stood, and everyone else followed suit. “They were squealing about reeducation in matters of law being needed, and indeed it is - they will just be surprised to find _themselves_ the recipients of it. My lord,” he said as he shook Neurhen’s hand. “My ladies.” He bowed over Iasia and Daradi's hands, giving Iasia a short wink as he smiled. “Thank you for your time. Please, enjoy the rest of the night, and may the Sun forever light your paths.”

“And yours, my lord,” Neurhen replied. He didn't even look at Zia when he spoke to her and waved his hand. “Go, go, dance your feet off. I trust Daradi to make good choices for your partners.”

“Thank you, Papa! And thank you, High Priest.” There was a mutter about formalities as Daradi was the one to take Zia by the hand and pull her out of the room. Zia resisted once they were almost to the door to outside. “Daradi, wait. You didn't … you didn't tell Mournful Namman about … you know, did you?”

Daradi threw a glance over her shoulder with a smile. “Don't worry, dearest - that's being taken care of. Namman takes far more kindly to being kept in the twilight than His Radiance does. _Namman_ doesn't sulk about it.” Zia giggled and looked around for Balahn and his cousin. “Come, let's dance over here.”

Zia raised her eyebrow. “Where there's work you can do while we dance?”

“Mishilt liked you last night. Would you like to dance with him again?”

“Who?”

Daradi sighed before turning to Zia and taking her hands. “Zia, I spent _hours_ finding men would might make good husbands for you, and you weren't even paying attention?”

She scrunched her face up and pouted. “Well, I ---”

Daradi wasn’t swayed, radiating disappointment. “If this is about that mystery soldier of yours ---”

“He's Balahn’s cousin!” Zia exclaimed. “Ask Balahn who he is - ask him!”

“I will. Now, Mishilt is the one who - _aiiiiiy!”_

She'd been picked up from behind and spun around, Captain Erend laughing as she struggled. “Daradi! Dance with me!”

_“Erend!_ Put me down! I was ordered to dance with Zia!”

“Eh, you danced with her. Now it's my turn!”

His face was so open, his grin so earnest, that Daradi heaved a sigh before relenting. “Fine. _One_ dance - then Zia and I have things to discuss.”

“Great! Hey, Daradi said we all get one dance!” he called as he set her down and turned to a large group of Oseram. Daradi realized her mistake and tried to resist but it was too late - she was already being pulled into the group of cheering, burly men and women.

Which left Zia alone. She edged herself off the dance floor and tried not to hunch her shoulders as she stood by a table of drinks and looked around. She took a delicate, cut-crystal glass and sipped the mulberry wine it held, trying not to look as awkward as she felt. Her father was across the dance floor with some of his business associates, Pep was following a Vanguard member around and asking questions, and her mother had found a group of ladies to talk with. She didn't see many of her friends, and while there was a group of sun-priests at the next table over discussing legal matters, she was afraid of joining them, afraid her reputation would have preceded her and that they wouldn't find it nearly as amusing as High Priest Namman had.

“Not dancing tonight?”

She turned in surprise, almost dropping her wine. One of the Nora women - Nakoa - had joined her and was looking the wine selection over critically. She raised an eyebrow at Zia and smiled a little. She didn't seem so intimidating tonight.

“Oh, Lady Nakoa, ah … Well, no one's asked me, much less asked my father, and Daradi isn't here, so …” The woman wasn't bothering to hide her disdain at Zia needing her father's permission to dance, and quite honestly, it was a little exasperating for Zia, too, even though she knew it was for her own good.

“Well, hopefully someone will ---”

“Nakoa!” They both turned as Balahn called out to her cheerfully. He was grinning as he strode up, but it wasn't the friendly grin he normally wore. It looked … dangerous. Like her father looked when he'd caught one of his merchants in a lie. “Do you have a moment? I've received reports of some of our … friends … sniffing around the southern border. I thought you might like to go hunting.”

Nakoa didn't bother acting polite. She bared her teeth in a snarl and nodded. “I would love to, Commander.”

“Good.” Balahn reached behind him and pulled his startled cousin forward, pushing him at Zia. “Here, keep Zia company. Nakoa, I've got a map and preliminary plans this way. After you.”

He bowed and followed her as she stalked off, leaving Zia and his cousin awkwardly looking at the ground, table, other people - anyone and anywhere but each other. The silence finally got to her and Zia broke tradition by speaking to a man before being spoken to.

“You didn't ---”

“Would you like ---”

There was a moment of awkward coughing before he gestured. “Uhm, go on, please.”

Zia cleared her throat and stared at her wine. “Uhm .. You didn't get in trouble, did you? For the other day? The sun-priests …”

He actually chuckled, actually grinned at her, and Zia’s knees went a little weak while her heart pounded. “Naw. It takes more that a few idiot priests to get _me_ in trouble.” Then he glanced at her, coughing as he flushed. “I mean, I respect priests in general. There are some very fine ones. There's just ---”

“I understand,” Zia dared to interrupt him. He looked relieved, where Thenoran had always hated being interrupted no matter how long it took him to speak. “Priests are still men, and not all men are good.”

He was giving her a concerned look. “Are you having trouble with one? Namman and Hishavan would ---”

“Oh, no, I'm fine,” Zia insisted. She must have looked stressed, because his brows pinched together.

“I would be glad to talk with them if you were ---”

She wanted Thenoran hung by his toes above a herd of Watchers, but bit her tongue and shook her head again. “Thank you, sir, but I'm honestly fine.” Daradi was taking care of everything, she thought smugly. She had a sudden rush of reckless confidence and gave him her most brilliant smile. “I'm Zia, daughter of Neurhen.”

He froze, then coughed and shook his head. “Oh, uh, I'm Jan-” A group of Oseram passed, loud as usual and drowning out his next words, but his voice ended on an upward tilt and she caught ‘Eva?’ and shook her head.

“No, ‘Zia.’ It's … it's a pleasure to finally meet you - or, well, be introduced.”

She half-held her hand up and he took it belatedly, dropping a hesitant kiss on her knuckles. “An … an honor, my lady. And …” He ducked his head as Zia prayed harder than she'd ever prayed before - except for when her father had been gone - that this was who Daradi wanted her to marry. He was kind and gentle, sincere in his compliments and shyness, willing to stand up for her, and _so_ handsome. “Ah, Balahn has it, but … I got the scribes to make a copy of the book you were reading, so …”

Zia laughed and waved her hand. “Oh, I've already memorized it. It's in my bookcase.” She tapped her temple before realizing that not only was he staring at her in confusion, but she'd also been extremely rude in laughing at his very thoughtful gift. She blushed and ducked her head. “I'm … I'm so sorry. That was very kind of you - I would love to have the book.”

“... You memorized it?” Zia blinked at him and nodded. He frowned and raised a finger as he thought. “And it's … in your bookcase? You mean at home?”

That had Zia laughing again. “Oh, no. In my memory home.”

“Memory … home?”

She sighed a little and looked down, but he was starting to look fascinated. “Do you … do you promise not to laugh?” Thenoran had laughed at her when she’d told him about it, excited to share what she could do and prove she could tackle harder subjects.

“Absolutely,” was his immediate response. “I've never heard of a … memory home.”

“Oh, it's easy.” She picked up another glass of wine and he took up a stein of beer. “You just memorize somewhere - I use my home - and just … put memories in things. My books go in my bookcase, recipes go in the kitchen, my special memories go in my mother's display cabinet with the good dishes and crystal and everything, and when I need something I just walk through and look at it …” He was staring, his mouth partway open, and she bit the inside of her lower lip. “You don't do that?”

Jan was shaking his head, leaning against the beverage table and blinking at her with wide eyes. “I … no. I don't know _anyone_ who can do that. That's amazing. How long have you been able to do this?”

Zia was blushing, ducking her head and shaking it as she shrugged. “Oh … forever, I guess. I thought everyone could do it. It's nothing special. You just have to concentrate.”

He shook his head again. “No, no, it's _definitely_ something special. It's - can it be taught? I would love to learn.”

What an odd thing to say. It was so very simple to do, after all. Zia was in the process of putting their conversation - how he looked, how he acted, the sights and smells and sounds around them - away at that very moment. The memory would go fabulously in the stained-glass vase her mother had, where she could hold it and treasure it forever.

“I … Of course,” she told him. He was flushing again, but smiling. “I mean, I'm not certain how long it would take, or _how_ to learn it, but I'll do my best. Uhm … Will you be here tomorrow? Early?” Or, he could ask her father to dance with her, and they could keep talking.

His lips thinned as he nodded. “Yeah, I have a meeting. Someone wants to ---” He waved his hand. “But that doesn't matter. I don't want to be grumpy tonight.”

“Do you usually want to be grumpy?” she asked teasingly.

She was half-afraid she would upset him - that sort of teasing had always upset Thenoran - but he just laughed again as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well … a man's got to have a hobby.” He flicked his gaze at her. “I could probably stand to find a new one.” Zia giggled as he looked over the crowd. “Do you know that man?” he asked suddenly.

She followed his line of sight and winced as she met her father's unimpressed and disapproving eyes. He raised an eyebrow and looked between her and Jan. She sighed and looked away, dropping her shoulders. “Oh, that's … that's my father. I … I'm not really supposed to talk to men without permission.”

“Oh.” Jan sounded surprised. “My apologies. I didn't know. I'll go apologize.” He set his beer down and cleared his throat, not quite looking at her. “Ah … if you would like to … if your father approved … may I … I don't suppose I could … ask you to dance?”

“Yes!”

She covered her mouth and blushed as Jan looked taken aback by her enthusiastic response, but he smiled a little and nodded. He was almost as red as the silk bandana holding his hair back, and gave her a short bow before making his way around the dance floor and to her father. She clasped her hands over her chest as she watched them talk. Her father had his arms crossed over his chest and was frowning, and Jan kept his head slightly lowered and bowed a few times. Someone stepped up next to her to talk but she waved them off, trying to get her father to let Jan dance with her through sheer willpower alone.

The man next to her tried to speak again, but she waved him off again, this time irritated. “Oh, stuff it,” she told him. “I'm busy.”

She got a laugh as Jan started making his way back to her, looking relieved to be away from her father's judgement. He didn't look put out, which she took to be a good sign, but he _did_ look surprised at her companion as he reached them. Zia looked around and her jaw dropped.

“Oh, uhm … Your, Your Radiance, you're ---"

“Stuffing it, I know,” he told her with a chuckle. She let out a short whine of distress. She'd told the king to stuff it. She'd told the _king_ to _stuff it._ She was going to die. He saw her expression and waved it off with a grin. “You would be surprised at how often I'm told that. Are you two getting along?”

“Yeah,” Jan told him. “Ah, Zia, your father gave me permission … unless Avad already asked you to …?”

Zia was puzzling over his familiarity with the king as the king shook his head. “Oh, no, I'm just checking in on all my citizens. Please, dance, have fun. I'm glad you two have finally been introduced.” He gave a short bow. “If you'll excuse me, I have some stuffing to do.”

“Again?” Jan asked with a laugh. “That's, what, the fourth one today?”

“Fifth,” His Radiance corrected him. “I'm going for a record. Would you like to add to it?”

“Yeah,” Jan told him as he held his arm out for Zia. “Stuff it.”

The king laughed again and gave him a short salute before walking off. Zia took Jan’s arm with a scandalized giggle and got a grin in return.

“Avad's a good sport.”

“I won't be in trouble for insulting him?”

Jan laughed. “Absolutely not. Obviously he's the king and should be respected at all times, but … He enjoys being treated like a normal person. Trust me, he's not bothered at all.” He cleared his throat as Zia was about to ask if he knew the king well. “Uh, I'm not very good at dancing …”

“That's fine,” she hurried to assure him. “I don't mind. I'll show you what to do. It's really very easy - the steps repeat, so once you know the pattern, you'll be fine.”

He looked unsure, but took the hesitant lead and didn't step on her feet very often at all, mumbling an embarrassed apology each time he did. It felt wonderful to have his hands - even in his armored gloves - in hers, to have them brushing across her hips, to have her back pressed against his chest when the dance called for it. Thenoran believed dancing was sinful. Thenoran, she decided, could stuff it.

They were both a bit breathless when the dance ended, and Zia held onto Jan’s arm even after he'd escorted her back to their drinks. She was getting raised eyebrows from her father, but pouted in his direction and then gave him her sweetest smile as she mouthed ‘please?’ at him. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and waved dismissively as he turned away.

She turned back to Jan. “Papa says we can dance again,” she told him happily. Then she ducked her head and drew her shoulders in a bit. He may have only wanted one dance. He may not actually like her at all. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Oh, was that what that was about?” he asked lightly.

He was smiling, though, and she shrugged. “I'm spoiled.”

“I can see that.” She looked at him quickly, but he didn't seem put off by it - amused, rather. The music picked up again, and he held his hand out. “Ah … if I may have the honor …?”

Zia’s heart skipped a beat - he thought it was an honor to dance with her. She was going to have to wash her thighs off soon if he didn't stop being so wonderful and handsome. She took his hand delicately and hoped he didn't notice the tremble in it.

The dance was a simple one to learn, which let them talk, but still, it took a few rounds for him to clear his throat and speak. “So … this memory house of yours. How does it work, exactly?”

She shrugged. “Well, I just …” How _did_ she do it? She pursed her lips and tried not to frown - he might not like her if she frowned - as she thought about it. “I … just … memorize a place and everything in it. And then I … when I’m learning something new, I just … walk through an area that, that’s significant to what I’m learning, and … just … put what I’m learning in something. It’s easy, once you’ve memorized the area you want to put things in.”

Her back was to him again and since he was only slightly taller than her, his breath was a warm tickle across the back of her neck and she shivered with delight and arousal. “I think I would need a demonstration. I mean, a picture or something. I mean ---”

He was red again as he spun Zia gently, and her heart melted. He was _so endearingly shy._ “I know. I can … We’ll see what we can do.”

“I would like that.” It was said so softly that she almost didn’t hear it, then he cleared his throat again. “Ah … You like … dancing?” Then he pursed his lips with frustration and tried again as she tried not to embarrass him by giggling at his awkwardness. “I mean, aside from dancing.”

“Well, the law,” she told him. “There’s so much of it to learn, and I’ve been reading a lot about …”

She didn’t want to upset him if he thought women shouldn’t inherit more from their fathers, but he smiled a bit. “Women’s inheritance?” She flushed and nodded. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t inherit more.” That had her looking at him in surprise, and he shrugged. “I mean, why can’t a woman’s dowry go to _her?_ Men shouldn’t have to be paid to marry a woman. You’re wives, not possessions.”

Zia blinked a little as she thought that through, her heart pounding at his words. He didn’t think women were lesser than men - at least, to a certain degree. “That … Well, that sort of means the _woman_ is being paid to get married, but … that could work.”

“For some men, that’s the _only_ way they’d get married,” he muttered. That had her laughing, and she got a small smile in return. “And why _not_ pay a woman to get married? I mean … not _pay_ her, per se, but … uh … if anything happened … that she didn’t like …”

“It would give her a means to support herself for a while if her husband left her,” she suggested.

Jan nodded, not quite looking at her, cheeks a bit red - he was blushing an awful lot. Zia liked it. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Not every woman has family who could - or would - take her in after a divorce. The shame of being a divorced woman, and all.” His sarcasm was clear, and she shrugged. “It’s a pile of boar dung.” She gasped a little at his language, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit, I didn’t - I mean - I’m sorry, I just - oh, _crap.”_

Zia squeezed his hands as she ducked her head and giggled. “It’s fine,” she whispered as she looked at him through her lashes. He stared at her, mouth open just slightly. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but …” He cleared his throat and looked away. “You’re a lady.”

“And I’ve heard my father’s business partners and employees swear, and my younger brother, and people on the street, and …” He sighed a little and relaxed, looking back at her without meeting her eyes before spinning her around, her back once again against his chest. Zia had to swallow before she could speak again. “I may have even _said_ a swear or two before,” she admitted a little playfully.

His breath across her cheek and neck as he laughed softly made her shiver, goosebumps raising on her skin. “Scandalous.” He was biting his lower lip a little when he spun her back around. She thought she was going to faint. “Will it be your husband or father paying you your dowry, then?”

“Oh, I won’t find a man willing to do that.” She giggled nervously. He just raised an eyebrow. “He and my father will come to an agreement, and off I’ll go.”

His eyebrow arched farther. “You’re just going to accept whoever your father chooses?”

Zia blinked. “Well, of course. He’s my father.” Jan’s other eyebrow joined his first. “But Pa- Father is a good man.” She shouldn’t be calling him ‘Papa,’ like a child. She was twenty-six and a mother and would soon be married - she needed to speak like an adult. “He’s promised to consult with me about any offers he receives. He wants me to be happy.”

“So, that’s what, twenty offers a day?”

Zia laughed loudly at the thought and then covered her mouth and giggled, face heating. “Goodness, no. No one’s asked at all, yet. I mean, no one near my age. He’s not letting older men even dance with me - there’s no _way_ he would tolerate them asking to _marry_ me.” He gave a small ‘mm’ and spun her again. “How ---" She caught herself and cleared her throat. Asking his age would be far too forward. “How did you get your scar?”

“A fight,” was his immediate response, then he shook his head a little as she ducked hers. “I mean, uhm … the war. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

He was grinning when she was facing him again. “Got into a fight with Ersa. Didn’t realize her gloves were armored.”

Zia’s eyes widened and she sucked in her breath a little. “You got into a fight with Captain Ersa?” He nodded. “... Who won?”

That had him laughing. “It was a draw, as usual. She was a good woman. Good fighter.”

“I always wanted to meet her,” Zia said softly.

“She’d have threatened to recruit you for the Freebooters.”

“But I couldn’t be a soldier,” Zia protested. “I’m a lady. Women can’t be soldiers.”

“Not according to Avad. Commanders _choosing_ women who want to join the military, well … that’s another story. Besides, Ersa tried to recruit every woman she met. Said the next army she raised was going to give Carja and Oseram men the beating they deserved.”

Zia was rapt with attention, and giggled. “I could list a few who need it.”

Jan shrugged with his own smile. “Yeah, so could I. A lot. She was so pushy - always needed everything exactly her way, always did it herself if no one else could do it to her satisfaction.” He snorted a bit. “Reminds me of Daradi.”

“Really?” Zia asked.

“Except Daradi can’t fight worth a damn, and she’s … she’s very …” He gestured vaguely as he pursed his lips. “She’s a lady,” he finally settled on. Zia nodded in understanding. There were women, and then there were _ladies._ “Pretty sure she cried all the way through her first Hunting Grounds. She _definitely_ cried all the way through the weapons training Talanah gave her.”

“I know,” Zia sighed as she frowned and looked down. “I was worried about her. She’s _so_ afraid of machines - not that I blame her.”

“She definitely has reason to be,” Jan assured her. “I honestly wasn’t expecting her to be able to do it, but - like Ersa - she’d set her mind to doing it and by the Sun, nothing was going to stop her.”

“You sound like you admire her.”

She got a puzzled look. “Well … yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Zia shrugged. “Well …”

“I wouldn’t call us _friends,_ but I don’t _dis_ like her. She’s just … pushy. Politely. Very politely pushy. And stubborn.”

“But you said she’s like Ersa.”

Jan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I could start a fight with Ersa if I wanted to - can’t do that with Daradi. Avad would kill me. Erend would kill me. Balahn would kill me. _You_ might kill me.” He pursed his lips. “A lot of people would kill me.”

“Well, Daradi is good friends with a lot of people.” She had the sudden fear that he would like Daradi more than her if they kept talking about her, and tried to change the subject. “What do _you_ like to do? For fun?”

He had to think about it. “Well … I don’t get much free time, but reading, I suppose. I do like to get out hunting once in a while. Avad decided I needed to pick up a _quiet_ hobby at one point and made me learn to draw. I really wouldn’t call it a hobby, exactly, but he was very concerned that I needed something soothing, a way to relax. I said I _was_ relaxed. He pointed out that I was in the middle of a brawl with Ersa. I don’t know why he was concerned - we were perfectly relaxed the whole time.” He grinned a bit as Zia giggled. “Turns out _his_ definition of ‘relaxing hobby’ was quite a bit different than ours. What do _you_ like? I mean, other than dancing and ... legal things.”

“Ma- Mother and I do a lot of weaving, but she’s better at it than I am. She made a map of the Sundom for my father once - it took her over a year. It’s beautiful. She had little pins made to represent settlements and machine sites and everything. I’ve started making my own book bag. Now that … that my tutor can’t teach me anymore, I can check out as many books from the library as I want, so I’ll need a book bag to carry them all in.”

“It _is_ difficult to carry twenty books at once.”

_“Yes!”_ Zia laughed. “Exactly!” He still wasn’t looking directly at her, but he was smiling.

He escorted her to a bench when she started feeling the exhaustion a few dances later. He was sitting close enough to her that it would raise a few eyebrows, but far enough away that no one could accuse them of being inappropriate. Zia’s heart was pounding as she held a mug of chilled pomegranate juice in both hands.

“Uhm … How _are_ your studies coming along? You said your tutor had to quit?”

The question made her heart sting, but Zia still smiled. “Well, thank you. My … Yes. He had to quit.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he murmured.

She shrugged. “It was for the best. He … didn’t think I could handle a very rigorous study load.”

That got her a huff of amusement and a twitch of a smile. It crinkled the corners of his beautiful pale green eyes. “I bet you can handle it - especially with that memory of yours. I think you’ll be a good magistrate.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, blushing and twisting her skirt in her hands.

He opened his mouth a few times after that, but didn’t say anything else. Zia wanted to ask him things - how long he’d been a soldier, where he was from, where he was stationed, if he was from a good family, if he was looking for a wife, if he could love a wife who had cursed skin or was having another man’s child - but she felt too shy, felt like she’d talked too much already. Thenoran didn’t think women should speak unless spoken to, and then should speak as little as possible.

“Are you having fun?” her father asked some time later.

Zia and Jan both jumped, and then he stood quickly. “My lord, we ---”

“Were sitting here,” her father interrupted, “neither dancing nor talking. Are you ready, Zia? Your mother is tired, and no, you may not stay out without us - I don’t care if the king himself offers to escort you home.”

He wasn’t _exactly_ being short, but he certainly wasn’t trying to ingratiate himself with Jan. Zia had the sudden, crushing thought that he didn’t approve of the soldier and was trying to scare him off. She nodded and tried not to let tears fill her eyes as she stood. She would just let Daradi choose her husband the next night. She trusted Daradi’s judgement.

“Yes, Father,” she whispered before turning to Jan and offering a curtsy. “Thank you for the lovely evening, my lord. Excuse me.”

He was looking between her and her father, a little wary and a little confused, but gave a bow and nodded. “Thank you, as well, my lady.” He bowed to her father, next. “Ah, Lord Neurhen, thank you for allowing me to spend time with your daughter. It was a pleasure.”

“That would be because my daughter is a delight in all ways,” he was told cheerfully before taking Zia gently by the elbow and turning to lead her off. “Goodnight.”

She waited until they were on the bridge out of the palace before daring to speak. “Father, that was ---”

“Highly entertaining,” he told her. He was grinning, now, and patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my dear, you may dance with him tomorrow as well - after I’ve suitably intimidated him again. He seems to be a good man.” Zia was giving him an incredulous look as he loosened the neck of his shirt. “You like him.”

“I … Yes,” she replied truthfully. “He’s Commander Balahn’s cousin.”

She was filled with the sudden hope that her father would let Jan court her, if only Jan could get over his shyness enough to ask, if only he wanted to. Her father nodded. “I know - he told me. Awkwardly.” Did that mean he was a noble? Zia suddenly couldn’t remember Balahn’s lineage - a man of his rank was quite probably a noble, but she was too off-guard to go get the memory. “What did you two talk about?”

“My memory home, mostly. And a little about my studies. He wants to learn how to make his own memory home.”

“Zia’s in _looooove,”_ Pep laughed.

She thwacked him in the shoulder and glared, and he glared right back. “Shut up. I am not. And so what if I was?”

“You fall in love with twelve men in as many days, silly girl,” her father said dryly.

Zia huffed. “Well, perhaps I wouldn’t be so silly if I got to go out more and _actually_ meet people.”

She was expecting him to be upset with her over her impertinence and sour attitude, but he just made a thoughtful face before nodding and shrugging. “... You make a fair point.”

“Just get married and leave, already,” Pep muttered.

“Appreciate your sister while she’s here,” her mother said sharply. “Be more respectful.”

“She just wants to have sex.”

She turned bright red and couldn’t get any angry words out, but her father just laughed. “As if we don’t have to knock on your door and then give you three minutes to pull your trousers up?” he asked. “We have to wear bells, at this point.”

“Women have needs, too,” she sniffed.

Pep spluttered with embarrassment as her father burst into laughter and even her mother hid a smile. It certainly shut him up for the rest of the walk home. It would usually be dark except for the occasional street lamp, but there were still vendors open and revelers out and about. Laughter filled the air and various delicious smells floated by, the lanterns strung between buildings dancing in the breeze that constantly blew across the mesas and causing the light and shadows they cast to dance about as if they, too, were joining the festivities. Zia wheedled a few sweets out of her father, and was yawning as they got home. It wasn’t until her maidservant was helping her undress and her hand brushed against her thickening waist - unnoticeable to anyone but her - that she fully remembered she was pregnant and still unmarried.

Her heart and gut clenched in panic. She’d had such a wonderful evening, and she didn’t want to remember the situation she’d gotten herself into or how desperate she was to rectify it, how very few options she had. She couldn’t stop the tears, though, and curled into a ball on her side as she resigned herself to crying herself to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I needed another WIP, right?


End file.
